Wystwood

68. Noblest of cowardly acts

Alone in the infirmary, Ada sat at the table across from Armestrong, a shared dinner plate between them. Armestrong was admiring Min's latest herbal creations, cradling each jar in her hands as though they contained golden ichor. After their visit to Spindlewen, they had returned to the infirmary to find it empty. A number of stools had been overturned, and remembering the injured man, Min had hurried off to try and help Hester. Lark had been gone for several hours.

"Do you really mean to go to the Barracks tomorrow night?" asked Armestrong suddenly, now staring at the chicken bones on their plate.

"Of course."

"Well, I can understand why you would be preferring not to go," said Armestrong. "You've only known Solen for a short time, and you've seen the horrors the Hounds are capable of committing. In fact, you've barely seen the half of it."

Ada shivered. She had been feeling the cold of the Stone Circle more every hour since dealing away her cloak. It was almost a comfort to know she wouldn't have to stay underground for yet another gloomy evening.

Armestrong went on, "It's just that, while I'm grateful for your kindness, nobody would think any less of you for not putting yourself in harm's way like this. Lark, too. He's not a fighter, and I don't think he's ever wanted to be one."

"My grandmother once told me that your whole life can change depending on who you place your trust in, " Ada said, only able to stare down at her boots as her voice became quieter. "I trusted Solen, and I want her to trust me, too. I want you all to trust me, if you can. I know I'm different, and I don't belong here, but that doesn't stop me from wanting to be a friend to you all."

"After all you've done for us. All you've done for Min." Armestrong reached across the table and took Ada's hands in her own. "You belong with us. No matter where you came from, or where you intend to go. You're here now. With us. And we're with you."

Ada's throat went tight, and Armestrong pretended not to notice her shining eyes as she leant back and dusted down her apron. Even in the hollow rooms of the Stone Circle, Armestrong seemed to fill the space just as confidently as she had in the Bonneville. Her patchwork apron brought brightness back between the shadows.

"What made you do it?" Ada asked. "Take in all the bandits, I mean. And help Min."

Armestrong sighed. "I never meant to bring them all together. Sometimes I even wonder if it was the wisest thing to do. It wasn't any noble deed or some such. I'd bought the Bonneville for myself years before, and never dreamt of turning away anyone from my doors, regardless of race, class, magic, any of that. I never thought it was right, what the Lady was doing, but I wasn't brave like the bandits, or this Stone Circle.

"It made me feel I was doing something to help the city when I was helping them. They spent so much time in the pub that those who'd been kicked out of their own homes took the rooms upstairs. So many of them came from upper-class families who'd sooner disown their kids than have them supporting magic and Casters. Despicable. Anyways, I never minded. It brought more life into my own, you know?

"It's just that... I'm ashamed that I couldn't've done more for so many of them. They were just kids... you've seen Lark." Armestrong shook her head. "Some hardly had a few years on Min."

Ada remembered the upper floors of the Bonneville. All those closed doors leading to vacant rooms, just as her own had been. All those untold stories. She squeezed Armestrong's hand. "Helping those who need it is the noblest thing anyone can do."

"Well then, I suppose you can also count yourself in that lot."

The two women smiled at one another, and although Ada still felt faint at the idea of infiltrating the Hounds' Barracks, Armestrong's hand was warm and strong. At that moment, there came the scuffling of feet from outside of the infirmary, and then a little boy popped around the doorframe. At least, Ada assumed it was a little boy, for all she could see was a mop of sandy hair amidst a pile of fabric.