We are now more than half a year on from that event. I don't know if I should hate to say it, but tracking and killing has become easier with time. I would almost call myself a shyster killer, although that reminds me more of my father than of myself. My father, that is a separate story. The man does everything to track me down and find me. He almost succeeded twice in the past year.
We made the stupid mistake of walking into a human village in our search for number 15, Floor Noali. Although the people and the royal family are not the best of friends, they support my father more than all the other peoples combined. We were betrayed, the army was called in and it took a couple of weeks for them to get off our heels.
The second situation was a bit more complicated. Number 23, Tom Vermeil, had a tavern. We visited that tavern regularly before his death. Nice tavern by the way, definitely worth a visit but that aside. After a few weeks, the man realised that we were following him and became suspicious. Slowly he began to realise that his life was at stake.
One evening, we tried to lure him out of the tavern with an excuse. His gut instinct apparently told him to call in the guards. We were captured, spent two days in the dungeons before a man helped us. One guard clearly did not agree with the decision to deliver us to my father. He opened the door, let us go and Tom is now lying in the ground somewhere.
Except for these situations, it is quiet around my father. The hunt is and remains in full swing. I never thought that the general hatred for my family would work in my favour. People recognise me, know my name and origin, but most carry such hatred for my father that they ignore it. I often get indignant looks as soon as I walk into a new village, town or area. You see people smooching with each other, sometimes laughing and getting on with their lives.
The search and hunt has become more intense with time. The army moves fast and is present in greater numbers. We have to be careful where we go, but we are almost always on the move. We don't stay more than a week in most places. It's a crazy life, a new life.
'Dumburt is in Runcast,' I whisper as I stand next to Novak at the bar. The bar is long, wooden and full of empty and half-empty glasses. A woman walks behind the bar. I guess she's about fifty. Her grey hair is sticking out in all directions, sweat is shining on her forehead. She doesn't look very healthy. Her weight is mildly high, her skin is grey and her hair seems not to have been washed for weeks. The brown apron hanging around her hips is covered with wet stains. Despite this, the woman looks cheerful. She has a broad smile on her lips and stands talking at length to each customer.
'If we leave tomorrow, we'll be there in a day,' Novak says. I nod and sigh. Sometimes travelling is exhausting. Sometimes the list seems endless. The woman comes walking towards us. The smell she brings with her is as unpleasant as her appearance. Sweat, smoke and liquor waft around her.
'What can I do for you?' she asks with a smile. When I take a good look at the woman's brown eyes, I see that she likes a drink herself. They are anything but bright.
'Two beers,' Novak answers and takes some coins out of his pocket.
'Make that one beer a double whiskey, straight up, no ice,' I interrupt the order. The woman grins, gives me a wink and starts on our drinks. I feel Novak's judgmental gaze at my back, but he says nothing. I put my forearms on the bar and lean on it. My gaze glides over the rich array of bottles of liquor behind the bar. From vodka to all kinds of rum, they have it all.
'Where are you from?' the woman asks as soon as she comes walking back and sets the drinks down on the wood. The golden liquid bounces against the glass. I take my glass from the bar, take a sip that throws half the glass down my gullet and look at the woman from under my eyelashes. My throat burns, my stomach heats up.
'Everywhere and nowhere,' I reply, swallowing the other half. I put the glass back down on the bar and slide it to the woman. She looks from me to the glass and back, grinning.
'Another one,' I tell the woman. Still ignoring Novak's judgmental red eyes. He is not happy with this situation, I know that only too well by now. There will come a time when he stops complaining about it, I hope. The woman walks away.
'I got a letter from Alex. Asa is going to be a father.' I look at Novak and nod. Despite everything, Novak keeps in touch with several friends. Asa, Thimon, Alex, they all send letters from time to time. The only one who can't be added to that list is Alisha. I haven't heard from her despite our agreement to keep in touch. Not that I've made a big commitment to that. I have not kept the promise on my part either. Let's just say it didn't work out.
'Nice for him,' I reply. With my eyes I follow the woman who comes walking back with the bottle of whisky in her hand. Children, I'm glad I never had them and I never will. It's a crazy reality when you realise that I grew up with the idea that bringing children into the world was my most important task. Life has its crazy roads, but I will never walk down the children's road.
'How much is it?' asks Novak as soon as the woman has poured my second double whisky. I grab the glass from the bar again and take a sip.
'Three valtu,' the woman replies. She holds up her hand while Novak puts three coins in her hand. The woman smiles, nods and walks on to the next customer. Novak picks up his beer glass from the bar and takes his first sip.
'Have you ever wondered what our life will be like after all this?' I sigh deeply. He does this all the time, thinking sympathetically about the future. Fortunately, he doesn't do it very often, but the few times he asks these questions it gets on my nerves. Sometimes, reality seems to creep in and hit him like a slap on the head.
I have less of this. Sometimes it all seems like a crazy dream that lives on for a long time. Maybe I don't want to see it as reality. If I started thinking about it too hard, I wouldn't be able to do it. I have found my ways of escaping reality. Maybe not all of them are well thought out, but they are effective.
'No, and I don't want to,' I reply, slamming down half a glass of whisky. I put the empty glass back on the bar and take hold of Novak's hand. Slowly I pull him towards the empty dance floor. Most of the guests are too drunk, too busy or simply don't feel like dancing. I, on the other hand, do.
I look at the group of men sitting behind their instruments. A violin, flute, drum and tambourine have been playing quiet music for our entire visit. It is time to give that music a different twist. I make a gesture with my hands telling the men to increase the tempo. They start to grin and one gives a thumbs up.
I turn around and look at Novak with a smile. Slowly, I take a step back while he continues to look at me expectantly. I received enough dance lessons in my youth to be able to find my way around the dance floor. I make a small bow to Novak while the man puts his bow against the strings.
The next moment, a quick and cheerful tune echoes through the wooden room. Novak holds out his hand to me, I take it and I am spun around. I grasp the black skirt of my dress as I put one foot in front of the other. The cheerful music makes my feet slide over the wooden floor by themselves. In a circle, from left to right and from front to back. I glide across the dance floor while the music guides me.
The harsh reality fades away and gives way to the reality I choose. The dozens of eyes that follow us in amazement and amusement get no attention. They are: me, Novak and the music.
As soon as I take a moment to look around, I see that several men and women have stood up. Slowly, drunk and laughing, they make their way to the dance floor. They join us and start making their way across the dance floor. Everything is clumsy and not at all like I learned as a child. That is exactly the charm I have come to love. The lightness and the fun.
The alcohol begins to take hold of my body. Combined with Novak turning me on all sides, I forget the world around me. A smile graces my lips as the men continue to increase the tempo of the music. These are the moments when I forget the world around me, forget the list and smile. These are the memories that I cherish and love to think about. There is laughter, there is drinking and there is partying.