The Little Shaman

Chapter 6 - Trust

There was an awkward series of knocks at the door before it opened. Despite being pretty sure that the knocking was Boo, Tibby jumped behind the basket in an instant, peering from around the edge. Sure enough, Boo came sliding into the room, opening the door just wide enough for him to slip through.

"You're back!" Tibby said with hushed enthusiasm. He was proud of the fact that he'd been able to keep quiet thus far. Deemo had doubted his abilities, so proving her wrong continued to be enjoyable.

"Yep," Boo said as he closed the door behind him. "And I come with bread."

Reaching into his pockets, he revealed two small ends of a bread roll. It wasn't much, but Tibby was still grateful. Also, he'd never tried human bread before. He gave it an exploratory sniff before shoving a massive bite in his mouth. It was a little dry. A little chalky. It had probably tasted quite good fresh out of the oven.

"Thanks!" Tibby made sure to say.

"Not sure how I feel about pocket food," Deemo complained, taking a tiny nibble of her piece.

"Well, I'll eat it if you don't," Boo said, crossing his arms. "Given that I'm a prisoner and I don't get much."

Tibby wasn't sure if the human had meant for his words to sound so harsh. Of course, he was right. As Deemo lowered her head, Tibby realized it was the first time he'd ever seen her look ashamed.

"Oh, right," she replied in a soft voice. "Sorry."

"It's fine," Boo replied with a wave of his hand, his charming smile making its return. "I know this is new for you both."

"Were you able to find out anything?" Tibby asked, deciding it was probably a good idea to change the subject.

"A little, yes," Boo began. "A wagon arrived from the marshlands this afternoon and someone matching your description was on it."

At that, Deemo's light pulsed. Both Tibby and Boo noticed, and Boo raised his hands.

"Don't worry, I didn't tell anyone about you or anything," he clarified. "I just asked the worker what she saw when the wagon arrived. She used to be a painter before her family ran out of money and couldn't pay their debts, so her attention to detail is definitely reliable."

"Does that mean he's still here?" Deemo asked. "Did you see him at dinner?"

Boo shook his head and Tibby's stomach sank.

"He wasn't there. The painter said he and the others were taken into the processing building, but she had to continue on with her work and wasn't able to stick around. One of the swampfolk told me that he saw a cart head out for the mines an hour ago, but he couldn't see who was on it."

Deemo looked at Tibby with a nervous expression before asking her next question, an action that made his stomach turn even more.

"Does the fact that you didn't see his father at dinner indicate he was on that cart?"

"Possibly," Boo shrugged. "It's hard to say. They might have taken him on as a house servant, or something else entirely. We'd have to check the processing records."

"Processing records?" Tibby repeated.

Boo walked over and collapsed onto the rough blanket that was his bed. Legs arched up in front of him, he leaned against the wall, his pale skin and blond hair standing in contrast to the dark stone.

"One thing you'll find is that wealthy people love keeping track of things. The wealthier they are, the more carefully they write down every little detail. When your dad went in for processing, they probably asked him a bunch of questions, measured him, tested his strength, all sorts of things to best determine how to use him. All of that information would have been noted somewhere. A book or scroll or something. We just need to read what they recorded."