Eira had been sitting in the gap between two buildings for nearly four days. She'd not been found, and it was likely the guards were giving up with that area. She was lucky. More times than she could count, she'd heard footsteps and thought for sure that she was done for. But, when there were none on patrol for her, she could come out and relax. Hopefully that would be soon. They could be gone for all she knew, but she would wait a few more hours to be sure. After all, all she was doing was relying on her intuition, not facts.
However, it would have to be soon. Her food ran out that morning and she didn't have much water left—maybe four mouthfuls at most. In addition, the air had grown colder every minute. Her clothes were thin and not suitable for sitting outside for such long periods of time. As time, shivered more and more. The only thing that kept her hanging on and not becoming hypothermic was the fact that she was of the Frost. But, as time wore on, she became less impervious to the cold. If you did not use your powers often, their protection waned to nothing.
It also didn't help that all the emotions she had been subconsciously suppressing had returned in a flood of her tears the night before.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she'd wept. "I'm sorry I left you."
The tears had dried up by the morning. Then, she just felt empty once again. Her stomach ached with hunger. She wondered if she would be able to walk if she took a trip to the communal well once night fell that she'd so carefully planned out all morning. She had just taken the last mouthful from her canteen. She supposed it would have lasted longer if she hadn't cried so much. It felt strange to berate herself for emotions she'd tried so hard to feel previously.
Once afternoon came, Eira felt weaker. Faint, even. Sometime between two and three o'clock, she heard footsteps approaching. Panic began to surge through her. If it was a guard, then she would have no means of escape, not to mention that she was sure her legs would barely work. She'd trapped herself in here.
The footsteps grew closer.
It might not even be a guard, she told herself. But it could be. She couldn't take risks and talk herself into believing it wasn't.
A man's head poked through the gap. Eira's eyes met with his immediately. He didn't appear to be wearing a guard's drab grey uniform. Instead, he wore the usual trousers, tunic, and thick jacket of a commoner. His hair was sandy blonde. Eira wasn't sure of his age—he could have been anywhere between thirty and fifty for all she knew.
"I thought I heard someone in here," he said. His voice wasn't intimidating. In fact, it was fairly soft. "I didn't think it would be a young girl like yourself, though. What are you doing in here?"
He didn't seem hostile. But, she would still answer his questions vaguely and bend the truth if necessary. There was always the chance that he was only acting nice so she would trust him. She couldn't risk being found out.
"I," Eira's voice came out hoarse, unused. She cleared her throat before continuing, "I don't have a home any more. My parents died of an illness years ago and I can't find any work." It was not a real lie.
"How old are you, miss?"
"Sixteen. I will be seventeen in the new year."
"Old enough for work, young enough to still be in school. Why are you in here of all places?"
"It was the best place I could find that was sheltered from the wind. My food ran out yesterday. I don't have the money to buy any more."
"What's your name?"
"Lowenna." Her mother's name.
"Hmm, say, if I gave you a room in the inn I own, would you work for me?" A room and a job? Convenient.
"As a barmaid, mister?"
"Not quite. Do you know how to pour a drink?"
"Yes."
"Good. Then you're fit for the job. Can you stand?"
"I imagine so." Eira hauled herself to her feet slowly. Her knees shook when she put weight on them, but she succeeded in standing upright. Once she was stable, she stretched out her stiff limbs and squeezed through the gap.
She shivered as the surprisingly colder air of the close beyond hit her. It didn't help that her clothes were entirely soaked through with rainwater.
The man motioned for her to come but she hesitated. "Mister, don't you think I should know the name of my employer before taking s job?" Eira enquired.
The man smiled in a friendly manner. "You're a sharp one, missy. My name is Al."
"Lead the way, then."
~
It turned out the inn was one of the buildings that Eira had been situated between. No wonder he knew she was there. He probably heard her crying. She felt a little shameful thinking about it.
The inn was small, but one of the nicer ones in the town. It was empty, maybe as everyone was working at that time of day. The first thing the man did was give Eira a bowl of warm stew, bread, and a hot drink of tea.
"I can't pay for this yet," Eira said quietly, looking at the steaming food with a hint of longing.
"It's on the house," Al replied.
"I—thank you."
~
The room she was given was small, yet comforting. It had just enough room for a narrow bed and a chest, presumably intended for its occupant's belongings. On the wall right of the door there was an unlit stove, and on the wall opposite, a window that looked out over an empty street below. It reminded her of her room at home, except this one was considerably warmer. It also had an adjoining bathroom, which was a mercy.
Al left her alone in the room after he'd shown her around briefly. She bid him goodbye and gave a grateful smile before sitting herself down on the bed. She'd managed to stop shivering thanks to the food and now began to peel her dirty, damp clothes off. Once free of them, she turned her attention to the bathroom. Al had filled her a basin full of hot water. Perfect. Finally she would get a chance to bathe. After being stuck there so long, all she wanted was to wash the grime of the street off.
She sat down in the bath and began sponging herself down. The warm water was relaxing and took the last chill away from her. It was surprising how cold she'd got while she had been in there. She hadn't thought her powers would leave her so fast. But, she'd been told that if she went longer than a month without using them, it would be very difficult to bring them out strongly without using an Icestone amplifier. If she went even longer, then it would be likely that she would go back to how she had been before the Test. That they would return to being dormant.
Eira poured water over herself, sighing deeply.
"What am I doing?" she murmured. She'd left on a whim, and she'd come here on a whim. Cerin being part of a rebel group was merely speculation. She'd abandoned her only chance of having a stable life when she left the training ground. She'd also now lost any chances of returning without consequences. She was a fugitive now. They didn't want her to return to them. They wanted her to dispose of her. To remove her. To kill her.
Eira could still recall headmaster Steele's words as clear as day: "If you such as consider going against us, you will die a coward's death just as she has." It had been a warning, and one that she had not heeded.
She couldn't return. She couldn't go home, either. She'd made the decision. She would have to face it. There was nowhere to run—apart from to Cerin. She could find him and help him with whatever he was going. She could discover the true meanings behind Owen and Graham's deaths. She could discover what had happened behind her death. Eira, for the past three years, had blamed herself for everything. But, now she wondered, she wondered if it really was. Are the Frosts all to blame? Is their society all that is wrong in this world?
She couldn't back down now. Not with all she had already sacrificed. She couldn't let anything be in vain.
~
The next morning, Eira dressed in some new clothes she had found in the chest and headed downstairs. She hadn't slept well per say, but she'd managed to get a few solid hours in, which was a miracle in itself.
She was to begin work that day. Down in the bar room, Al stood alongside a young woman that couldn't have been more than two years older than Eira.
"This is Leila, the barmaid working today," Al informed her. "Leila, this is Lowenna. She is starting work here today and will act as our helper. She will pour all the drinks and help either of us if we are overwhelmed or if we have to go on errands."
"Nice to meet you," Lelia greeted, if not a little monotonously. She curtsied.
Eira attempted to do the same, but it just looked awkward since she was not wearing a skirt. Instead, she nodded her head. "You too."
"We open in two hours. Lowenna, wipe the bar and tables. Leila, sweep the floors please. I'll make the food."
~
Eira wasn't as adept at pouring drinks as she'd previously thought she was.
The first part of the day, she'd mainly been dishing up stew and soup and giving them to Leila to take to people's tables, which hadn't been that difficult.
However, now that evening was approaching, people were wanting drinks—namely, ale. Eira had overfilled the first tankard and it had spilled all over the floor. The second, she'd under filled and when she'd attempted to put more in, it went all over the floor again. She hadn't considered herself clumsy until now. But, to her defence, it was hard getting the ale out of a barrel.
By her tenth try, she was at least kind of getting the hang of it. It was now sometime around eight o'clock, and the inn didn't close until midnight. And she was already tired.
Half an hour and twenty cups of ale later, Al had gone to get some supplies as they'd run out of bread and oatcakes.
"Lowenna, you serve these next few customers," he had told her over the loud conversation of half drunk men.
Eira had nodded, albeit dubiously. Her people skills weren't exactly up to par, but she supposed she could stumble her way through taking some orders.
"That next customer is Mr Alden. He is a regular and doesn't usually have a complicated order." He motioned to a man with flame coloured hair sitting at the bar. "I'll be back in ten minutes. See you."
"Okay...," Eira replied apprehensively, watching him go. She took a sharp breath and forced herself to walk over.
The red haired man, Mr Alden, was drumming impatiently on the wooden surface of the bar. He was dressed entirely in black, right down to his shoes and right up to his tunic. He didn't even appear to be that old, perhaps twenty at the most.
"Good evening," Eira told him. After the words left her mouth, she realised how forced it sounded. "How can I help you?"
A hint of surprise flashed in his eyes. She assumed it was because he had been expecting Al, not herself. Although, that soon passed and he returned to the hardened expression he had worn before.
"I'll have the usual." His tone was flat, maybe a little bored.
"I'm sorry, I've just begun to work here. I don't know what your usual is."
"I'll have a bowl of stew with oatcakes and a half pint of ale."
"We've run out of oatcakes and bread. Will bannock suffice instead?"
"I suppose."
Eira sighed and worked at getting the food organised. Of course, her first customer had to be a difficult one.
She poured the ale into the tankard and for once, she actually managed not to spill it everywhere. When she was finished she brought it all over and set it down in front of Mr Alden.
"Thanks," he mumbled, to Eira's surprise. He hadn't been anything close to polite before.
Eira watched the door. No new customers and no sign of Al's return.
"So, what's someone like you doing working in a place like this?" came the voice of Mr Alden.
Eira froze. He couldn't have figured out that she was one of the Frost, could he? She'd tried her very hardest to hide it. Perhaps she hadn't tried hard enough, however.
"What do you mean by "a person like me"?" Eira enquired, turning around a little too sharply. She tried not to sound like she was demanding the phrase, but she really was.
"A girl of such a young age." Oh. So that was what he meant. Still, she didn't think she was much younger than him, anyway.
"I don't see how that's any of your business," Eira told him. "I, unlike whatever fools you've met before, don't go around spouting my life story to some stranger I've known for five minutes. Especially one whose name I don't know." She did know his name, though it wasn't as if he knew she knew. And it was a little harsh of her, but people like that should be shut down before they pry too much, and consequently find out what she was hiding.
"I suppose you're right," he said, placing his half eaten bannock back onto the plate. "But, if you must know my name, it's Kea Alden."
"What do you propose I call you?"
"Just Kea. I dislike formalities."
"Alright then, Kea. You should know I'm still not going to tell you."
"I'm not looking for your life story. I was just curious, but never mind. I have told you my name, though. I should expect it to be returned."
"It's Lowenna."
Kea leaned in closer. "Are you sure?"
Eira gave him a accusatory look. "Of course."
~
"I've found her. I'm sure of it," Kea told him.
He looked at him. Or, at least Kea thought he did. After all, the man wore a hood over his head that completely obscured his face. "Really? You really have?"
Kea was surprised by the tone of his voice. It was completely unlike the man he'd come to know over the past year. "Yes. She's working in an inn."
"Why would she be working in there?"
"I don't know. But she gave me a name."
"A name?"
"Yes. She told me her name was Lowenna."
"Then it really is her..."