“Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment. There is no why.” --Vonnegut
Darius stepped around a boy no older than twelve winters lying in a pool of vomit and waved an impatient hand at the barkeep. He struggled to twist his expression into some type of congeniality as he watched Lauren slowly approach.
“Got all the time in the world, aintcha?” Darius snapped.
It was a personal affront to him to see someone just gliding along, unconcerned about the momentous sadness surrounding the end of the world he’d come to know. Lauren shrugged and ran one slim hand through his shaggy mop of hair.
“Yes. I have all the time this world has left to offer,” He replied softly, as his mournful eyes settled on Darius’ outrage then moved over to take in Alora and Islinn.
“Haven’t you and your brother caused enough trouble? Now you bring her here?” Lauren shook his head, the very picture of sorrow.
With supreme effort, Darius managed to ignore the comment. He’d never liked Lauren. Always asking questions and spouting some type of naysayer bullshit when it came to good and evil and all the variables in between.
When Darius strolled through town in better times, Lauren’s eyes would rest on him as heavy as a woolen blanket in summer heat and even though Darius had his suspicions that Lauren was as crooked as a dog’s hind leg, he hadn’t been able to catch him in anything. And that had only infuriated him more.
“You should know by now Lauren, that your opinion is as important to me as a fart in a thunderstorm,” Darius replied smoothly. “Now, shut the fuck up and get a room cleaned out. One with a locking door.”
Lauren gave an exaggerated nod and the placid expression on his face remained unchanged. His eyes swept over the crowd and settled on a swarthy man leaning against the wall, apparently enthralled with the carnival playing out in front of him.
“Gunnar! I need a room cleaned! One that can be locked!”
Gunnar nodded placidly and pulled his sword. He rested a thumb against the blade to test its sharpness and his dark brows knitted up with concentration. After a moment, he nodded to himself and started up the stairs. Darius watched the slow, laborious ascent and ground his teeth. Hate flashed through him, heated and sour.
That’s right. All of you just take your mother-fucking time with everything because it’s nothing to you, nothing but time until things are fixed. Or not fixed. Whichever way that fucking wind blows, it doesn’t matter to any of you one bit.
Darius wiped a hand across his dry lips and quickly stepped back as Alora placed her hands on the bar and studied Lauren.
“Darius will be settling the bill with you,” She said. “Have food brought up. She doesn’t eat much but whatever is brought up, make sure it’s hot, understand? There will be someone arriving to pay for my services, send them up when they get here.”
Alora turned and grinned at Darius. He wasn’t fooled. It was a mere pulling back of her lips, he’d done it himself many a time. His dislike of her grew.
“You surely do rule with an iron hand, Darius.” She commented dryly. “I’m sure a room in this fine establishment will more than meet my expectations.”
Darius grunted noncommittally and turned to watch Gunnar coming down the stairs with one body over his shoulder and dragging another behind, one huge hand hooked around the wrist as though he were dragging along an errant child.
“Second room s’cleared. One of the bar sluts needs to mop up the blood and change the sheets.”
Lauren nodded and jerked a thumb towards a side door.
“Throw them out there with the rest,” He said. He glanced at Alora, his sad eyes unreadable. “All I have is bread and mutton but I can sear it in the fire. I’ll send your coin up when it arrives.”
Darius drummed his fingers impatiently on the heavy scarred wood of the bar as he watched Lauren grab the arm of a passing barmaid and send her up the stairs. He avoided looking at The Twiceborn. His restless eyes moved over the drunken revelers.
Garbage. Nothing but garbage. Once this was all said and done, maybe he could find a way to burn Lauren out. He used up a lot of favors lately but there still had to be a marker he could call in from somewhere. Burn the bastard out then rebuild because the tavern turned good coin, Lochedge couldn’t be completely without a tavern, he would need…
“I’ll find out, you know.” The Twiceborn’s silken whisper skittered across his senses like a spider. He jumped and bit back a scream.
“Find out what?” He choked. He felt suddenly light-headed as he turned to face her and had to grab on to the bar for support.
“Why the Hynti are here and why you need me for a Sin-Eater,” Alora smoothly replied. “Why your whole town stinks of fear and why everything is out of control. I think I know…”
She left the statement unfinished and simply smiled. And in that smile he saw all the stories he’d been told as a child coming home to rest. There was something dark and ancient that breathed and pulsed below her surface and studied him through her eyes.
“The coin I paid you does not make you our champion,” He stammered. He forced himself to look away from her eyes. “What’s done is done, regardless of your pressing need to know of what does not concern you.”
The Twiceborn gave a sharp laugh. One hand casually reached out and pulled the blond girl closer to her.
“I’ve never fancied myself as anyone’s champion. Want my opinion?”
“No.”
She continued on, ignoring him.
“I think…you somehow rolled the dice with Abigor and he favored you but nothing is free now, is it?”
Darius felt a little green around the edges. The heavy warm air of the tavern, the smell of all the spilled ale and unwashed bodies...it closed in around him. He could taste vomit in the back of his throat. He swallowed thickly and glared at The Twiceborn.
“So now…the time has come to pay for whatever it is you received and you’re looking for a way out. And I’ll tell you right now that I’m not it.”
“Yet you came. We have a deal.” Darius replied as he wiped a shaky hand across his sweating forehead.
The Twiceborn laughed again. The sound reminded him of broken glass.
“Yes, we have a deal.” She agreed, “And I’ll honor it as much as I honor anything else. You’ll pay far more than just those coins before we’re done.”
Darius was saved from responding as the barmaid descended,carrying a mop and a bucket of rust-colored water.
“It’s as clean as it gets.” She pronounced.
Lauren nodded and reached below the bar. He pulled out an iron key and casually tossed it to Darius. Darius caught it in spite of his quaking hand and held it out to The Twiceborn.
“When can I expect the Hynti to cease?”
He harbored the wild hope that if the Hynti staggered away he could restore some type of order. He needed it. He was too tired and worn to worry about the deeper consequences of everything. He just needed to be in control of something again, no matter how tenuous that control might be.
The Twiceborn took the key from his shaking hand.
“It’s the first thing I’ll attend to but…”
“But what?” His anger and fear had settled a bit but he could still feel it humming along merrily beneath the cover of his skin. Still, he managed to sound somewhat courteous. And he mustered up enough courage to raise his head and look in her eyes as he asked.
Her eyes.
The sounds of the tavern faded away.
In her eyes he saw the flat shine of nothingness. The empty black that lay between the stars, deep and infinite. Yet there was a flash of something there, if he’d of blinked he’d of missed it. An all-knowing intelligence, a flash of silver on dark waters.
“But…mark my words, Darius,’ She continued softly. “If anything happens to Islinn while I’m gone…Lochedge will cease to exist. Do we understand each other on this?”
Darius opened his mouth to reply but was unable to make a sound. All he could do was nod.