Wintermore (Aeon of Light Book 1) (31 page)

Mira silently stares in awe at Yaz for a few seconds then nods as her thoughts form. “You’re crazy. You’re absolutely freakin’ crazy.”

“Well, that’s all a matter of opinion, Mira the sneera.” Yaz puckers his lips and pinches his chin. “You know, I have been known to be a genius in certain circles.”

“
Yeah, right
, genius of the town’s idiots, mules, and pig sties.”

“Says you!” Yaz says, lunging forward head first and fist raised.

Mira flinches and sucks in a scared breath.

Yaz laughs and backs away. He points at her with a shaky arm and finger as his body gyrates. “Gotcha.” Yaz turns toward Preta. “All right, Sis, zap the bitch again.” Yaz does a jump spin, lands right in front of Mira, crouches down, snaps his eyes open wide, and flaps his arms and body like a bird. “
Braa-ha-ha-ha-ha-yeah-freakin-raa-you-yo-yo!
”

Preta grabs Yaz’s arm and yanks him away. “Enough, Yaz, stop it! I’ll take care of her from here.”

Yaz’s body relaxes then goes still, and in deep thought, or in no thought, he stares at the wall for a second. He sighs and glances at Mira. “Bye bye, Mira,
oink
oink
,” and he leaves the room.

“I brought you some water,” Preta says with all the kindness she can muster as she extends a cup toward Mira.

“I don’t want anything from you except your head on a spike.”

“Here, drink.”

“Leave me alone, freak. Get away from me.”

Preta scowls. “Why are you being so mean?”

Mira huffs between snorts. “Mean?
Mean
? Now I see the connection. The idiot really is your brother.” Mira turns away from Preta and peers out a small window. “You sure aren’t the smartest lot, thick as trees.”

“Sorry we had to do this to you—I wish it could be different.”

Mira snorts. “Sorry? You’ll see sorry right before your head’s on a spike, you little freakin’—”

Preta’s body convulses in frustration, and not wanting to hear anymore of Mira’s threats of her brothers’ imminent demise, she jams a cloth in Mira’s mouth and rushes away, slamming the door behind her. She heads for the center of the room where everyone’s getting ready to go.

Deet scoops up the remainder of coins and jewelry and piles them on the table. “Let’s get out of here.” Deet opens the front door and waves for the others to follow him.

At the door, Yaz spins back into the dress shop. “Sorry, I forgot something, one sec.”

Preta peeks back, watching Yaz run inside to the table.

Yaz sweeps the coins and jewelry they left behind into his pocket. He glances up and sees Preta staring at him. He cocks his head to the side along with a shrug and he strolls back toward Preta.

“Yaz, what are you doing?”

“That woman’s gonna turn us in and won’t be happy until our heads are on spikes. You heard her, and now we’re fugitives. We need all of this, no matter what Deet says, you’ll thank me later, you’ll see.” Yaz pushes by Preta and steps into the center of the street. He thrusts his arms straight out while taking in a deep, vocal inhale and then he lets out an equally vocal exhale. “I love this place.”

Preta closes Mira’s door, feeling sorry for a second, but then Yaz’s rationale resonates with her. She feels nothing for Mira. The only thing she feels is uncertainty about where they’re going next.

Yaz lowers his arms. “Where to, Deet?”

“To the docks,” Deet says. “We’ll get a room for the night and lie low. When we get there, all of you will stay in the room while I inquire about the earliest passage out of the city.”

“Let’s do this,” Yaz says, rubbing his bulging coin-filled pocket.

THE ONE & ONLY YAZ

Brownish smog lingers just above the grey tiled rooftops, and the aroma of pinewood and burning coal fills the streets. Ahead, long docks extend out into the sea. The closer they get to the docks, the more inns, bars, and whorehouses line the street.

On the left, Preta is overwhelmed by floral incense and tobacco as she passes old men playing chess. A few more steps, and she inhales the stench of sewage making her gag. A second later, sweet pastries transition her senses from revulsion to love. Every few steps, the smells change, her brain confused, shifting from pleasure to revulsion and back to pleasure again. A blast of familiar wind hits her, a fragrance of saltwater, fish, and ale, and it reminds her of Waighton.

Deet eyes a blackish stone building with worn yellow shutters and a bright-yellow door. On a sign swinging from a brass post, a sleeping man with hands pressed together against his cheek is carved on yellow painted wood.
Doolunny Inn
is engraved in the large stone block next to the front door. “This will do,” Deet says.

A woman with grossly caked-on white and red makeup plastered on her cheeks and lips giggles and brushes Deet’s shoulder as she strolls by. “Looking for company?”

Deet ignores her as if nothing more than a passing wind.

The woman spins toward Yaz and caresses his arm. “How about you?” She smiles. “
Hmm
—aren’t you strong.” She giggles and presses her lips onto Yaz’s cheek, leaving a red waxy imprint on his skin.

Yaz blushes and grins. “I am strong,
very
strong.”

The woman licks his ear. “I bet you are, strong man.”

Deet glares back at Yaz and sarcastically shakes his head. He steps inside the inn, followed close behind by Agna.

Yaz ogles the woman, and he grabs her waist.

The woman leans in and kisses his lips.

Yaz’s face transforms, his giddiness shifts into a serious expression—he nudges her away. “You know what, I slew a bear last week.”

“
Oh
, really?” She winks at him. “You want to slay me too?”

Preta lunges back into the street and grips Yaz’s arm. “Come on, strong man, enough, we need to go.”

Yaz ignores Preta and leans back whispering into the woman’s ear.

“
Oh
, I’d like that very much.”

Preta flicks her eyes at the woman. “Sorry, gotta go.” Then she jerks Yaz away from the woman’s clutches. “Snap out of it, Yaz.”

“Preta, I was just talking to my new friend.”

“New friend?
Really
? Shut up, don’t be stupid.”

“Hey now, I’m not stupid,” Yaz says in as serious of a manner as he can pull off.

Inside the inn, it smells of old musty wood and citrus. A large, wooden, circular double set of stairs leads up to a balcony. To the right, a middle-aged man with black hair tied back into a ponytail stands behind a counter, a monocle pressed tight between the wrinkles of his right eye. A pipe droops out the corner of his mouth as he reads a newspaper. Smoke curls and loops away as he breathes. The innkeeper peeks up at Deet. “How may I help you?”

Deet points at a board labeled with a list of rooms and the status of occupancy. “One room, please.”

“For you, or all of you?” the inn keeper says in a steady voice.

“All of us.”

The innkeeper nods. “Half a silver.”

Deet sets the coins on the counter and holds his hand out for the key.

The innkeeper tilts his chin down and sweeps the coin off the table and into a drawer. He squints his right eye, squeezing the monocle tighter to keep it from falling out. “Room four, up the staircase at the end of the hall on the right, check out is at ten. Lay out your stones on the sevens, and new ones will be delivered by the nines. Through the first downstairs door on the left, meals on the eights. Heated washhouses and tubs out back, if you require anything more, I can point you in the right direction, enjoy your stay.” The innkeeper lowers his eyes and circles a stock quote on the Ardinia Times financial page.

“Thank you.” Deet heads for the staircase and climbs to the second floor.

At the top of the stairs, Preta leans over the balcony and watches Yaz spinning in the foyer.

Yaz jumps to a stop, drunken grin plastered on his face. He eyes Preta standing on the second floor and points at her. “This place is great!” He nods over and over.

Preta rolls her eyes and turns away.

Yaz races up the staircase, lunging up the stairs two or three at a time.

Preta steps into the hallway and is overwhelmed by hot dry air and cedar.

She enters the room and eyes two bed mats on a smooth stained amber wood floor. By the window is a small table with two chairs. On the table, in the center, a vase of purple and white flowers.

Against the wall, across from the bed mats, a large iron basin rests atop a flat slate rock. Inside, medium-sized oval-shaped black stones piled one on top of the other.

Preta moves to the basin and lowers her hand to pick one up. Immense heat emanates off the rocks, and she snaps her hand away. “
Humph
.”

Agna stands next to Preta. “I heard about those, those are mapier stones, they hold extreme heat for long periods.”

Near the front door, Preta steps inside a small closet on the left.

A squatting toilet made of white ceramic sits in the floor’s center. Above it, a warped wooden box with an oblong handle and rope dangling out the bottom. Preta’s eyes narrow as she tries to figure out what it is and how it works. She flicks the handle with her hand and it sways back and forth, knocking against the back wall. She bends over and the faint aroma of sewage seeps out the rusty iron drain. Scratches and red stains streak the porcelain basin. Preta yanks the string. The wooden box gurgles and water whooshes out a hole in the toilet’s side. She steps back, startled. Preta eyes a small bucket filled with sticks wrapped with thin cloth. Above, on a ledge, a candle and a single flower in a small pot.

Preta reenters the bedroom where Deet, Agna, and Yaz sit in deep discussion.

Deet points at Yaz in a threatening manner. “Nothing stupid tonight.”

“You know what? I think we have a privy in our room,” Preta says.

“Welcome to the big city,” Deet says.

Yaz leans back and places his hands behind his head. “I love this place. This is where I’m meant to be—I was made for the big city.”

Deet points at Yaz’s chest again. “Nothing stupid, I mean it.”

“Brother,” Yaz says, “I love you, I do, but I’m going to the pub next to the inn for a few tonight, no matter what you say.”

“Do you understand what’s at stake? Lomasie’s after us and probably the town’s guard too.”

Yaz shrugs. “Which is why I’m only going to the pub next door and not to the other fifty we passed by on the way here.”

Deet glances at the floorboards, worried, but realizing he can’t stop him, he concedes. “Okay, but only a couple of drinks, and don’t get drunk. And just one pub.” He puckers his lips. “And no women.”

“Deal,” Yaz quickly says.

Deet scowls. “Nothing stupid, I mean it.”

Yaz snaps his fingers twice, grins, and points at Deet. “Nothing stupid, I promise.”

Deet heads for the door. “I’m going to the docks to see about passage, all of you be careful. If there’s any trouble, come straight back here, and if we get split up, go to the nearest temple and stay hidden. If you have to flee the city, meet back behind Rufus’s field where we exited the Yelton.”

“Got it,” Yaz says with a nod while he rubs his coin bulging pocket.

“We’ll be good, Dee,” Preta says with a confident straight face, trying to reassure her brother, even though inside she has the same concerns as him.

Deet points back at Yaz, warning him one last time.

Yaz nods and gives Deet a wink.

“So when we going?” Preta says to Yaz.

Yaz tilts his head to the side. “
We
?”

“Yes
we
. You’re not going by yourself. I’m going with you to the pub, and there’ll be no discussion on it.”

“Now, Sis, I don’t think—”

Preta snorts. “You’re right, you don’t think. You really are this dense sometimes. I’m going, and I better not see the same Yaz I saw the last time I went to a pub.”

“What Yaz are you referring to? There is only the one and only Yaz, no more, and no less.”

Preta sneers at him. “All right, the one and only Yaz, just behave, your sister will be with you.”

LET’S DO THIS

Preta follows Agna down the spiral staircase, and the musty wood makes her sneeze.

Yaz is in the foyer below, jittery and rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

At the bottom of the stairs, Preta passes through a small hallway. Conversations grow louder the closer she gets to an open red double door.

Inside the dining room, men and women sit and eat at tables, chatting of politics and trade, the markets and men, sports and stocks, food and family, and weather and women.

At a large table in the back of the room, with a stack of metal plates on it, Preta picks up a plate and follows Agna’s lead, filling it with bread and meat.

Preta scoops a spoonful of stew into her bowl and carries it to where Yaz is sitting.

Yaz chews his food in his normal vocal manner. “The girls here in Bielston are way better than the girls from home. I have a keen eye for this sort of thing.”

Preta curls her lips and rolls her eyes.

After an otherwise unremarkable and filling dinner, Preta imagines the night ahead. Thoughts in her mind shift from joy to Lomasie to worry to the one and only Yaz unleashed on Bielston. She sips the last of her water and vows to keep her brother safe.

Yaz stands, rubbing his belly and belches. “Let’s do this, ladies.”

What did I get myself into? Be strong, Preta, he needs me.

Agna touches Preta’s arm. “I’m going upstairs, this old body needs to rest. It can’t handle a night of babysitting your brother. Be vigilant, danger could be everywhere, and promise me you won’t drink.” Agna flicks her head at Yaz. “And try to get you know who back to the room in one piece. Be safe and smart, please.”

“I will, don’t worry, I got this,” Preta says, her mind focused, ready for the mission ahead.

Yaz struts off toward the hallway without Preta. “If you’re coming with me, better get moving. Bielston is calling me, Sis.”

Preta gives Agna a timid smile then runs to catch up with her brother, who is already pushing his way through the inn’s front door and heading outside. She skips through the foyer and lunges through the front door.