Layla's Story

Chapter 1
         
“Next time, do your own dirty work,” Layla said as she slammed the bloody dagger down on the rickety wooden table causing the old table to rock back and forth. She reached an arm behind her head and pulled a leather satchel to her side. Slowly Layla delves into the deeps of her satchel stalling for time as her eyes adjust to the dim lighting in the room. Layla’s green eyes survey the room as her arm searches for the small box. The room is completely empty save for a table in the center of the floor. Through the shadows she can make out dark blobs that she assumes are guards in addition to the guards standing at the door behind her. Her eyes sparkle a bright emerald as her hand grasps the smooth, cold box. Arm and bag disengage and Layla brings out a little box no larger than her palm and sits it gently on the table. Even in the darkness Layla can make out the grotesquely beautiful etchings on the ivory box and admires the workmanship. Small faces forever etched in agony seem almost to writhe beneath the ivory surface of the box.
         Layla takes a brown, calloused hand and rubs it through her coarse ebony hair. Across the table she can finally make out the dark shadow of a hooded man, his dusty blue eyes the only color visible in the shadows.
“Well,” she said, “open the box. I assure you Sameed won’t spread any more lies about you.”
Silence responds to her. Again Layla drags a dark hand through her woolen hair. She wonders, and not for the first time today, why she agreed to work for the Dark Master. Usually her jobs consist of spying, stealing, and the occasional torture for information but this was going a bit too far. Layla never killed anyone nor did she plan too, but tonight’s events brought her closer than she ever dreamed. Even now she could still hear poor, obese Sameed’s cries as she tied him up and threatened him with the bloody dagger now resting on the table. He cried like a baby and before it was all over the smell of feces filled the room. Urine mixed with the slowly congealing blood making the floorboards of the tavern a dirty orange color. The smell was almost too much for Layla to bear. The sooner the Dark Master opens the box the sooner she can leave the city and start a new life with the money she receives from him in payment for this disgusting deed.
         Rustling from across the table distracts Layla from her thoughts. The Dark Master reaches out a hand barely visible in the shadows of a long sleeve half the size of his torso. For a moment the ivory box disappears under his sleeve then reappears, now open, as he removes his hand. Refusing to look in the box Layla stares at the dark space where the Dark Master’s face should be. She knew all too well what was in the box. How could she forget the blood – so much blood?
         Sasha, Layla’s sometime partner and best friend, told her people can bleed a lot without dying. He’s killed before so he should know, but for some reason Layla just didn’t believe it – that is, until tonight. Poor Sameed, Layla thought. I told him he should keep his mouth shut, warned him about spreading lies and, even worse, about telling the truth. Some things are better kept secret. When it comes to the Dark Master all things are better kept secret, especially if you want to keep your life. But Sameed ignored my warnings. Why should he listen to me anyway? I’m only an orphan, a guttersnipe, raised in the streets, a beggar and a thief. I can barely even read. ‘What do you know about the Dark Master?’ Sameed had said to her. ‘I only hired you to clean up the tavern each night and maybe serve a few drinks.’ He had no idea what I really do for a living. Well, he does now, Layla thought bitterly.
         The Dark Master reached his sleeves across the table again and pulled the box closer. Leaning over the box he inhaled so deeply Layla imagined the dust on the table rolling towards the box and sucked up into his nose. That’s assuming he even has a nose. I’ve never even seen his face, Layla thought. But how else could he inhale like that if he didn’t have a nose? Dark Master pulled back a sleeve revealing a slender, pale arm visible even in the dark shadows. Reaching his pale hand into the box he slowly extracts a swollen, bloodied, pink tongue. Sameed’s tongue, Layla thought, Insurance that Sameed will never talk again, and should he choose some other form of communication involving, oh, say, a hand, well I imagine I’d be delivering a slightly larger box for a larger fee to a very satisfied Dark Master.
         Layla ran her hand through her hair once more. A nervous habit I really should quit, especially if I continue taking jobs dealing with so much blood. Layla shivered and was suddenly startled by a loud chink against the table. Finally, she thought, my payment. Now I can get out of here. She studied the cloth bag on the table for a moment. The bag is a muddy spot on the table and for a moment Layla considers putting on her gloves before grabbing the bag. Reaching out a hand she picks it up and stuffs it in her satchel making sure to force it to the bottom so as not to jingle when she walks. She closes the satchel and swings it around to her back again. Layla turned to go when a strange sound stopped her.
“Laeelaa,” the voice grated against her ears causing the tiny hairs on the back of her neck and arms to rise. The Dark Master had never spoken to her before. Normally his servant Babel gave the orders. Layla knew this wasn’t good.
“Iee havee aanottherr job forr yoou.” The Dark Master said.
Layla stood still but did not turn to face him.
“Yoou weell keell ssomeonne forr mee.”
Layla stiffened, but did not reply.
“Iee weell send Babbell too yoou toomorroow.” He said.
Layla stood still another minute. All thought paused and then suddenly she lept to life, charging for the door. Shoving the two burly guards aside she threw her weight against the door nearly forcing it from its hinges. Once she was outside she ran as hard as she could through dark alleys. Mud bricked buildings became a faded dream as she entered the marketplace. Colorful tents and crowds of people blurred by as Layla ran. She did not stop until she reached the Peoples’ District and saw the sign above the tavern where Sameed worked, picturing a lion’s head with a healthy mane. Staring at the sign of the Lion’s Mane Tavern, breathing heavily, Layla dropped to her knees in the dusty walkway and sobbed.
                                                 
                                                 

Tamelia walked in a circle around the tavern floor. She stopped and stared at the empty wooden floorboards. Slowly she tilted her head to the left, then the right. She dropped to her knees staring steadily at the center of the floor. “Nothing,” she said. She walked a bit to the right, stopped and repeated the process. Avoiding the tables and chairs stacked around the perimeter of the tavern she made her way around the room stopping now and again to scrutinize the center of the floor.
“Nothing,” she said again. Once she was satisfied that no traces of blood could be seen anywhere on the floor she proceeded to grab a shovel and, standing in the center of the room, she slammed the metal end of the shovel against the brand new floorboards and dragged it across the wood scratching and scaring it until her arms were tired.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she said as she dropped the shovel. It fell clanging dully against the floor. Tamelia grabbed a chair and pulled it over to the newly scuffed and dented floorboards and sat down heavily.
“500 Feece for replacing half a floor,” she grunted as she braced her feet on the floor and pushed the chair backwards while sitting in it, “and now I am trying to make it look just like the old floor. Why didn’t I simply replace the whole thing?”
She scooted the chair around and pushed in the opposite direction across the floor.
“Oh, that’s right,” grunt, push, “I couldn’t afford to replace the whole thing because someone just had to hire a barmaid!”
Tamelia stood up and place the chair against a sidewall. She walled past the old rock walled fireplace, around the bar, through the door to the kitchen and stopped at the cleaning closet. She opened the door and grabbed out a straw broom.
“Can’t believe I’m doing this,” she mumbled again.
“Stupid man learned his lesson the hard way. Well, I’ll be burned if we lose customers because of his wagging tongue.”
She thought about her bad choice of words. Well serves him right, she thought, Even the blasted bar wench could see he was headed for trouble. Tamelia walked across the floor sweeping the dust around in great circles. She tried to spread it across the newly scuffed floorboards to make them appear just as old as the rest of the floor. Happily, or maybe not so happily, she was making progress.
If I can finish before noon and get the chairs back up no one should be able to tell. I’ll say Sameed is sick. Once his stub of a tongue heals he can show his face and keep his mouth shut. We shouldn’t have any problems with the customers. I’ll be burned if we lose business because of Sameed! If people find out the Dark Master has it out for us they’ll stop coming for sure. Now the only person who knows about this is the wood carver, Jennings. Surely he didn’t believe that story about a stray mongler wandering into our tavern. Monglers rarely ever come into to town, burn me! I can’t believe that was the best I could think of. Sure monglers are mean enough, but I told him it chased me into the tavern and I brained it to death with a shovel. I couldn’t kill a rat let along a mongler. Burn me! What was I thinking? Well, I’ll just have to send Layla ‘round to make sure old Jennings keeps his mouth shut.
Finally satisfied with her work Tamelia began dragging chairs and table back to their places significantly rescuffing the already scuffed floor. Once everything was back in it’s place she shuttered the windows by the bar and locked them reducing the amount of light filtering through the tavern.
“Ah, looks like it ever did,” she said.
Still clutching the broom she leaned over and picked up the shovel then began navigating the tavern floor back to the cleaning closet. Placing the broom and shovel back in the closet Tamelia’s thoughts turned to other things. She turned to look at the empty kitchen. “Its almost noon. Better get started on lunch. Some cabbage and beef stew should get the rest of that awful smell out of here. She walked across the floor to the large sink and washed her newly blistered hands, dried them gently on her apron and then grasped the side of the sink.
“Didn’t realize how tired I am,” she thought.
She stoppered the sink and turned on the water letting it run until the sink was full. Turning off the faucet she ogled her reflection on the water’s surface. Just barely she could make out her curly red hair pulled back against her neck, little ringlets of gray and red framed her face. Smudges of dirt marred her forehead and chin where she had wiped the sweat off her face with the back of a dusty hand. Her cheeks were rosy from exertion and under her eyes were dull gray circles where her tired eyes had sunken into her head.
I can’t do this alone, she thought, Sameed be burned!
“Where is that stupid bar wench?” she said.

ﻶ

         “By the stars girl! Stop that awful wailin’ an’ get yerself in ‘ere. The day’s most gone and there’s work to be done what with Sameed laid up sick.” Layla looked up and stifled an urge to giggle. From her vantage point she could only see Tamelia’s large ankles and even larger breasts, but no head. “Sorry Missus,” Layla grunted as she rose from the ground and patted the dust off her pants with her hands. “Had a rough day. Won’t affect my work none. I promise you that.” “Make sure it don’t. We’re already down one pair of hands tonight, don’t make it two.” Tamelia moved aside and held the door open for Layla who rushed inside quickly.
         She ran across the newly scuffed and dusted floor and up the stairs. On the way to her room she paused just outside Sameed’s door and listened. There were no sounds. He must be sleeping. Layla knew she wouldn’t be able to keep this job long. It was only a matter of time before Sameed healed enough to somehow communicate to Tamelia that Layla had cut his tongue out. She had maybe three days at most unless she could manage to drug his food or drink. It would have to wait though. Right now there was work to be done. Quietly, she rushed to her room, threw off her cloak and replaced it with her work apron. A change of clothes and a bath have to wait ‘til later too.
         From the top of the stairs Layla could already her rowdy customers coming in. ‘Looks to be a rough night to finish off an awful day,’ she thought. Aloud she said, “Who wants a drink,” as she descended the stairs.
         “Oi! There’sh mah favorite wensh.” A large hooded man called from across the room. He sounde3d like he’s already had one too many. Tamelia had shuttered all the windows save one and the lanterns on each table made the room appear full of smoke or fog. It could be the dust the rowdy crew was kicking up too. Layla could only just see the dim outline of the man. Others were yelling for drinks and jostling each other for places at the bar and at the game tables. This man was already seated and there was something familiar about the voice. Pushing past customers and slapping away groping hands, Layla made her way towards the fellow and spoke angrily over the noise. “I’ll have none of this wench business from you, cur. You’d do well to remember my name!” She reached the table with hands on hips and leaned in towards his face. “Just who be you?” she said in a low, threatening voice. The man looked up as his hand shot out and grabbed her around the waist.
         “Come wensh. Don’choo recognize yer old friend?” Oh, she recognized him alright, but they’d already made a scene. Might as well keep up appearances. “Oh, I know who you are, now that I see yer face, you old cur! You’d do well to keep your hands to yourself before you lose ‘em.” Layla put up a faint struggle to push him away but he held tight. Loudly, he replied, “I’d like to lose ‘em in yer bosom wensh!” He forced a thin hand down her shirt and removed it just as quick. “And you’d do well to remember my name. You screamed it enough last time we were together!” He pushed her away and stormed out thye door as roars of laughter broke out at the scene they’d made.
         “Whadda you laughing at? Sillis above ! You’d best mind yer own nonsense if you want to drink here!” More laughter and then Layla started taking orders. She barely noticed the slaps to her backside as she made her rounds. Why had Sasha come to visit during work? What was so important?
         As men left for the night, Layla grabbed tips off the tables and stuffed them in the pocket inside her shirt. The same pocket Sasha had stuffed a crumpled piece of paper into. This night could not end quick enough for Layla. Quickly, she served, cleaned and swept until all the customers were gone. At the night’s end she sat at the bar exhausted. Tamelia brought her dinner and a watered down ale as per their agreement when Layla got the job. Sameed hired her, not Tamelia, but she still carried out Sameed’s wishes. Layla serves and cleans, gets a room and two meals a day plus half the tips. It wasn’t a bad deal.
         Tamelia sat down opposite Layla at the bar. She waited until Layla had finished her ale then said, “A man was here for you tonight.” She eyed Layla waiting for a response but Layla just stared into her empty mug, wishing for more ale, stronger ale, enough ale to wash away the words she knew would come next. “Said ‘is name was Babel. Left a note for you, he did. And this.” She slid sealed note and a leather pouch across the table. “I didn’t open it. I don’t want no dealings with his kind. You neither girl.” Layla felt Tamelia’s stare like a great pressure throbbing in her head. She shifted her gaze to the note but still said nothing. “You hear me, girl. His kind’s what hurt Sameed. Cut his tongue out, they did! You wouldn’t know nothin’ about that now would you?” She waited for Layla to respond.
         Without raising her eyes, Layla pulled out a small handful of feece from the pocket inside her shirt. “Here’s your half of the tips Missus. Thanks so much for keeping me on here, but I’m leaving tomorrow. I have to go.” She reached out to grab the bag and letter with one hand, but Tamelia grabbed them first. “I didn’t want you here girl!” Layla finally met Tamelia’s stare. “I didn’t want you, but now I need you. I don’t know what you done got yerself into, but you get out. Give back this bag and this letter. Tell ‘em yer done!”
         “I can’t do that. He’d kill me. I’d rather not have a tongue than to be dead. He’d get you too and your Sameed. Burn this place to the ground, he would. I must go.” Layla looked into her mug again. “Better to go and live than to stay and die,” she whispered. “There are worse things than death girl.” Tamelia shoved the letter and the bag against Layla’s plate and rose quickly. She grabbed Layla’s empty plate and mug and dropped them noisily into the sink, startling Layla. Then she was gone, storming up the stairs to her room.
         Layla waited for a door to slam shut. When it didn’t she slowly rose from the bar stool and stretched tired muscles. She grabbed the cursed letter and the bag, which she knew was filled with feece and crept up the steps to her room. Tamelia could be heard in the next room thumping and bumping around. Every now and again Layla could make out an angry curse. It couldn’t be helped. She liked Tamelia though the woman never wanted her. There was a small pang of guilt within Layla for leaving Tamelia this way. All this was her fault twice over; once for injuring Sameed and twice for leaving when Tamelia had no one else to help. There was nothing else to be done but to leave. These were nice folk; they didn’t deserve what she’d done to them.
         Layla reached into her inner shirt pocket and pulled out the crumpled note Sasha had left her. Ah, Sahsa… She remembered his strong hands around her waist and knew she couldn’t have squirmed out of that grip even if she wanted to. And why should she want to? Pale-skinned Sasha. She loved looking into those blue eyes, a deep engulfing blue. How she wished to be the focus of these eyes, Sasha’s lovely eyes, mesmerizing, angry, passionate eyes. And when he forced his hand down her shirt…She had tried hard not to be excited. Not to feel his calloused hands rake across her nipple as he stuffed the note into her pocket.
         “The note!” She had almost forgotten. “Monglers have you Sasha!” she muttered aloud. Layla picked the crumbled paper up off the bed where she must have dropped it. She sat down heavily and smoothed the paper out the best she could. It was hard to read his hand writing. He must have written it in a hurry. It read:
         “You made the list. Be ready. Sunrise tomorrow. You are the well spring of life.”
Finally. Layla tried over and again to make the stupid list. It was the next step in her life. There were few goals to aspire to as a thief. After years of stealing and hoarding most thieves are too afraid to live the life they’d stole for. There was always the fear of being caught or going soft. If not that, she could strive to take Carpess’ place but she was pretty sure Sasha would inherit Carpess’ position. Who wanted that anyway? Always fighting to stay on top, ruling thieves and nobles with an iron fist while kissing the backsides of guards and Academia. No, Layla wanted to be a different kind of thief. She wanted to steal information. Information was true power. Wealth means nothing and you always ran out, but knowledge, that never runs out and it is always powerful and meaningful. And she made the list.
         Of course it was only a foot in the door. The Serpent’s list had only the best thieves and spies on it. No one knows who makes the list or how to get on it. You just do your best and word gets around. Even fewer are chosen to join the Serpent’s Tongue. “You are the well spring of life.” She read it aloud just to hear the words. Of course she was the well spring of life. She was the knowledge seeker and to know is to live. She would meet the Serpent at one of the fountains outside of Academia.
         Sasha was due a huge thank you for this one. How did he eve know she’d made the list? Where’d he get the code line from? There was still so much she didn’t know about Sasha.
         Layla kicked off her shoes, untied her apron and laid down on the bed. “Ouch!” The pouch of feece! She had forgotten and laid on it. She sat up again and grabbed the letter that was sitting under the pouch. The feece clanked together as she shifted on the bed. So Babel had come and she didn’t’ notice. Dark Master said he’d come but she hadn’t thought it would be so soon.
         She studied the letter. It was only one page, folded in on itself and sealed by red wax with the D.M. seal. A circle with the name alexis inside it. Layla had no idea what it meant, but it was always the same. She broke the seal and opened the letter. It read, “You have done well over a few things, but I could make you ruler over many. It is common knowledge; a serpent is not the well spring of life, but a bringer of death. Which would you choose? You cannot serve two masters for you will hate one and love the other. The one you love will master you, the one you hate you will master and you cannot be both slave and master. Knowledge is truth and truth is freedom. I can give you all three. Will you cease to exist by becoming the ears of a serpent who cannot hear or the eyes of a serpent who cannot see? Can you find life in bringing death to others? The choice is yours, yet it has been made for you. What will you choose?”
         Layla was confused and the room was so stuffy she felt she might suffocate. She got up and opened a window and then plopped back down on the bed. The bag of feece jingled as she did so and she decided to open it up. She grabbed the bag at the bottom and emptied its contents on the bed.
         A snake fell out onto the bed and bit Layla on her thigh. She jumped up but it was too late. Too slow, too slow. The snake, a bluebacked creeper, hissed and lunged at her again but she was well out of its reach.What to do? She felt her leg falling asleep. Not good, not good. She took her apron off and tossed it over the snake. The blueback hissed and spit and she saw its fangs bite through the fabric. It was stuck. Good. She carefully grabbed the edges of the apron and pulled the writhing snake up with it. So pretty, so dangerous. Layla hobbled over to the window and tossed apron and snake over the side. Can’t be helped, back to bed. She took the notes and feece and placed them back in the pouch and tucked them in a secret pocket on the inside of her cape. Vision blurry now, she peeled up a loose section of floorboard under her bed where she kept all her secret things and put the cape in it. She replaced the wood and put her shoes on top of the hiding place. Getting dizzy. She stumbled as she lost the feeling in her leg. Laying on the bed, how did I get on the bed. She saw her lantern dimming. Must be out of oil. Layla tried to call Tamelia but her voice came out a croak. She reached for the lantern and just as her hand came close, the lantern danced out of reach. Must be a dream. Dreaming, dreaming.  A sing song voice in her head. She took all her strength and reached for the lantern again, she missed as the lantern slid to the wall across from her bed where it had always been and Layla fell onto the floor with a loud thump.

Chapter 2

         Sasha climbed the tall hill slipping every couple of steps on the muddy graves. He pulled his hood over his eyes to shield his face from the rain. The mourners could be heard now over the thunder and rain. “It must be close,” Sasha mumbled to himself.
         Just over the top of the tombstone in front of him Sasha could make out the large black hat of the Deathsayer. A few more steps and Sasha could see the whole death assemblage. The Deathsayer stood, back to Sasha, his voice droning on about peace in death while the mourners at his feet wailed as if death was the worst sort of torture. Flower girls stood in front of the mourners throwing flowers into the gaping hole at their feet. Across the chasm several friends and family of the newly dead stood weeping and whispering among themselves.
         As Sasha approached a young boy standing off to the side noticed him and ran to greet him. “I’m so glad you came!” He said, a little too excited considering the circumstances. Sasha only nodded at him and continued to walk toward the open grave, young boy in tow. “It’s not really that I’m glad,” the boy rampled on, “because I know it’s not proper and all. But she’s glad you’re here, or, uh, she would be, maybe. If she were alive that is.” The young boy paused. He frowned at his failed attempt to contain his thoughts then said, “but if she were alive you wouldn’t be here and neither would she.” Sasha stopped short and stared at the boy. He tried hard to keep from laughing at him. Instead he glared at the youngster. “Oh Sasha,” the boy gushed, “I’m sorry. I mean, she’s not here, I know that, but her body…her body…I mean,” he slumped his shoulders and exhaled heavily. Sasha could tell he was about to cry so he grabbed the boy and pulled him close. “It’s okay Timmy. I understand. These things are hard.” Sasha ruffled Timmy’s hair. “People usually say, ‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ okay?”
         Timmy nodded and sniffled. He stood up straight, stared Sasha in the eyes and said, “I’m sorry for your loss, Sasha.” “That’s a good boy,” Sasha said. He ruffled Timmy’s hair again and then went to stand with the others at the death assemblage. The mourners were quiet now, the flower girls’ baskets empty, and the Deathsayer was finishing his speech.
         “She died at the hands of a foul beast.” He held out every few words and sounded to Sasha like he was singing a song with only one note.
         “Only a cruel murderer would concoct such a death. She was too young, too young…” His voice shook on the last two words reminding Sasha of an old storyteller who used to frequent the Lion’s Mane Tavern. “We will miss Pontya. She worked hard and loved harder.”
         “Many can attest to that.” Sasha whispered to Timmy whose face turned red. The Deathsayer continued on with a glare in Sasha’s direction. “Let us remember her fondly and never speak ill of the newly dead.” “We have to wait at least until tomorrow when she’s only sort of newly dead.” Sasha whispered to Timmy again. This time Timmy failed to stifle a giggle and the Deathsayer glared at him. Timmy dropped his eyes to the soggy ground and shuffled his feet in the mud.
         This led one more round of quiet weeping as the Deathsayer finished his speech. Flower girls walked over to the open grave and dumped any left over flowers on the potato sack inside, then turned and left the deathsite. Sasha hung behind as family and friends shuffled forward to say their goodbye’s to Pontya. Timmy also stayed behind. Once everyone had left and the Deathsayer began filling in the grave, Sasha turned to Timmy. The sweet smell of irises and roses mingled with the pungent aroma of the newly dead making a scent that nearly turned Sasha’s stomach. I must finish this quickly before I lose my dinner.
         “So what news is there in Cathedral City? I left last night to handle some business in Ozcrest and I only got back tonight.” Timmy grinned. “Don’t you think I know where you’ve been?” “Oh, that’s right.” Sasha rolled his eyes. “I’m talking to the Serpent himself. Please forgive my presumptuousness.” Sasha flourished his cape and bowed grandly in the rain. “Please have mercy, O Crafty One!” Timmy stood tall and pointed his nose skyward. With a wave of dismissal he said, “You are forgiven, Forgetful One.”
         “Okay, enough fooling around.” Sasha rose and motioned Timmy to follow him. “I’m late as it is and I have to meet Layla at Academia.” Timmy, who had been tailing Sasha, gasped loudly. “What is it?” Sasha asked as he turned towards the boy. “I…I thought you knew.” Timmy stared at Sasha horrified. “What are you stammering about boy?” Sasha growled angrily. “What’s happened to Layla?” “She was bit by a blueback.” “What? Why didn’t you tell me? Is she okay? Where is she? Speak up boy!” Sasha grabbed Timmy by the shoulders and shook him.
         “She’s at the tavern!” Tears welled in Timmy’s eyes. He looked down and shuffled his feet. In almost a whisper he said, “Sasha, I’m sorry.” He shook his head as if to say ‘she didn’t make it,’ and started to cry. Stunned, Sasha let his arms fall to his sides. “She’s okay Timmy.” He meant to be reassuring but his voice came out pleading. “She’s alright isn’t she?” When Timmy didn’t answer Sasha demanded. “Tell me she’s alright, Timmy!” Timmy looked up at Sasha. Tears and rain streamed down his face. His hair looked like a bird’s nest where Sasha had ruffled it. He sniffled and then shook his head no again. Sasha, breathing heavily, shook a fist in Timmy’s face. “You tell me she’s alright, Timmy!” He screamed at the terrified child. “You were supposed to watch her! Why didn’t you tell me what happened?”
         “I’m sorry! Okay?” Timmy yelled back. Why should Sasha treat him like this. He was just as angry as Sasha. He was only a kid. What could he do? “I thought you knew! I’m just a kid! I’m just -” Timmy broke off in sobs. Sasha grabbed the boy and pulled him close. He wrapped Timmy in his cloak and held him tight. “I know. Timmy, I’m sorry.” He said into the boy’s hair. “I’m sorry Sasha,” Timmy said, his voice muffled from inside the cloak. “It’s okay son. She’s okay. We’ll be okay.” Sasha sighed. He kissed Timmy’s head and inhaled deeply savoring the familiar smell of wet dog and dirty alleys. Sasha looked around him while he held Timmy close. The Deathsayer was still filling in the grave but now it looked more like mud soup than a grave.
         “I’ve got to go Timmy. I need to know if she’s okay. You get dry and I’ll find you later.” Sasha hugged Timmy tight and then let go. He turned and ran down the hill towards the Lion’s Mane Tavern.
         Timmy, chilled by the loss of Sasha’s warmth, shivered in the rain. He watched Sasha run, his cloak billowing behind him. Timmy waved a slender hand in Sasha’s direction. “Bye dad,” he whispered into the rain.

ﻶ