The White Thorns of Fire

2 | raid

Cold nipped at Mersem's ears in the absence of his mask. Beside him, Silke blew into her hands in a sad attempt to keep them warm. Rolling his eyes, Mersem yanked his scarf off and wrapped Silke's hands with it. By the looks of it, with Haeral and Chenric still out scouting, they're going to be here for a while.

Silke clicked her tongue but didn't tear off the scarf from her hands. Mersem rolled his eyes and tucked his arms closer to his chest, letting a shiver or two out. He kept his eyes on the people darting in and out of the road like a cat out to pounce on a mouse. Silk, satin, and mesh. Those were the current trend among the ladies and gentlemen trudging through the ankle-high layer of snow, followed around by small boys and girls dressed in thin coats and wet boots much like how Mersem and Silke were.

Mersem bit his lip, keeping the disdain from leaking into his mouth. Solon's socialites flocked to Zarasel and into the Imperial City inside the capital that there's no alley, no matter how dark, Mersem could turn to and not find some of them. Wooden wheels clacked along with the rhythmic patter of horse hooves as merchants flowed along with the traffic, muttering under their breaths about high tax rates and the awful smell of animal manure that they helped cultivate in the first place.

They were currently stowed by their friends on a random alley rimming a tavern whose smell could have rivaled their cabin after their father finished gutting the animal which would provide all their meat for the rest of the month. It's either that or wet leather. Both were repulsive, either way.

"What's taking those guys so long?" Mersem's breath crystallized in front of him as he spoke, the frost tickling his nose and turning his vision hazy. "They've been out forever. The next thing we know, they've already carried on with the plan and left us out here so they could have someone to blame if this goes south."

Silke snorted. "You should go write a play," she rolled her eyes. "Don't you have faith in your friends?"

Mersem rolled his eyes. "Yeah, define 'friends'," he made air-quotes with his fingers. "Friends don't lure other people's sisters to their deaths by suggesting a stupid and totally unsafe plan."

"Live a little, Mersem," she tightened her hold on his scarf as she edged closer to the alley's corner. The wall they've been leaning on since Haeral and Chenric went off their journey belonged to a winery whose grapevine-like smell wafting in the air helped battle the wet sock tavern's next to it. "We might be rich without bounds after this."

He didn't like anything about his sister's statement but he didn't dare speak anymore. It's useless trying to argue with Silke when she's already set her mind into something. That's just how she was and he wasn't going to try and change that. Not when she's set her mind into being a headache, too.

"You want some qiorfe?" Mersem jerked his chin towards the tavern. "Maybe they sell something over there."

Silke looked at him like he had just grown horns like a horrida. "Haeral said we should stay put."