“Why did you have my chest branded, withyourdesign?”
“Cypress told me to,” he flippantly answers. “Said it would serve more than one purpose.”
Any answer relating to Cypress means I won’t get to know more than whatever surface-level explanation she’s given.
“Alright… well, why did you not teach me of the gods much?” I sidestep a pile of shit in a bucket, nearly vomiting at the stench.Somethings I’m not used to. “I had no idea they actually influenced things. Always just sounded like something we mentioned in passing but never really followed.”
“Well, because that’s how I see it, in my book. They seem to answer to very few, and you can’t change what they want. Theydon’t give a shit if we hurt. What’s the point of knowing them, then?”
“Sounds like a shit deal that they have power, and we don’t.”
“That’s why I never gave it thought. Cypress, on the other hand, is so entrenched with hers that she’s like his literal right hand.” His glance at me is quick, but our gazes still connect. “Youhave one, you know. With your healing powers.”
That revelation nearly stops my feet in their tracks. “Mom never mentioned it,” I mutter nearly so fast the words have no space between them. “Or, well, I kind of remember a blue candle, but that’s it.”
“There’s an entire ritual with the blue candle. It can aid with the healing powers.”
I glare at him in the dim lighting. “No one has mentioned that to me.”
His eyes move all over in their sockets, which is so interesting because, for Soren, his gaze usually steadies rather than searches. “You lived in Coalfell as a healer. They don’t have healers out there, not trained ones, andthey’rethe only ones that use the candle—properly educated healers get hired out left and right, or live in the cities. It makes sense they wouldn’t tell you. I thought about mentioning it in passing, but I honestly didn’t want you to use it so as not to draw attention to yourself.”
Torches highlight the cracks and bumps of the walls, a few walkingtooclose to me, like they might want to steal my things.
I had never once considered there are various levels of healers. Well shit, now I want to live just so I can learnthat.
When a woman strides by and glares at me with hardly any other interpretation, I partially pull out my dagger.No, idiot, what if she’s a distraction?
Quickly, I step to the side so only the wall of a building is to my left. A glance over my shoulder reveals a scabrous man suspiciously closing in on us. Before that man can make anothermove, my father turns around, Donna’s hand quietly moving to the blade at her thigh.
The Scorpion, as Ern, speaks. “You touch her, and I’ll cut off your ears and then your tongue.”
The man pauses.
I raise my brows as we slow down as if to say, ‘Sorry, can’t stop him.’
The woman comes into view, Donna watching her with calm anticipation. The woman’s dark eyes flash with concern as she draws her lips tight, waving a dismissive hand. “Let’s go, Adam. There’ll be other fresh ones.”
The pair disperse almost as quickly as they appeared, disappearing behind two opposing carriages crossing the street. When I meet Donna’s eyes, I spin on my heels and follow my father once more like nothing happened.
We just need to get out of here.
Even if this place has been forbidden since I was a child, so far, it doesn’t seem much different than Skull’s Row—“Hold on,” I demand, getting so close I nearly step on the back of his heels. “Did you have me watched the entire time I was a kid? I was never able to sneak down here.”
“You had many handlers that you never met. Mod was one. They’re all keeping a distance in case they’re recognized.”
Makes sense, I guess.
It’s easy to get lost in the detail of the carved stone once we near the more centralized part of this multi-layered maze. It reminds me of the Spiraling Stone, just underground, and one of my persisting thoughts is how many chisels were needed to carve so much of it.
My eyes widen when I swear I spot the soft illumination of true sunlight, the hues of the buildings and carved pillars gaining a subtle blue.That massive grate, that’s right. I betwe’re nearing it. “Why does this place exist like this? This is immense.”
“When Skull’s Row was founded, it was just a bunch of pirates looking for refuge,” he replies, maintaining hawkish eye contact with someone else as they pass us by. “Some of them moved into the cave network to weather out the storms, and before they knew it, this city exploded in growth. Piracy couldn’t maintain what was growing, so a new economy emerged in trade routes. Which meant bigger, stronger buildings could be built, and these caves became a place for all things hidden.”
There are remnants of lives lived in all corners, many things weathered and forgotten as new inhabitants carry on with their own tales while I’m busy making a mad dash for my life, hunted by something they can’t even fathom.
It really feels like I don’t know this place at all, which used to live in a romanticized bubble in my mind. What did I do all day, as a kid? Did I really never ask more about how that city came to be, or why certain districts had different flares than others? I can almost recall the sun on my face as I ran about the Silver District, my lips always chapped. Whenever Dad was home, we’d spend all of our time practicing how to sharpen blades, throwing them, spotting a pickpocketer from a league away, and also playing pranks on locals.
Mom would take me to homes to assist in births, or to the Infirmary to heal injuries; it’s actually where I met pirates who could afford to be transported inland. Some days, we went to the apothecary, and she was always teaching me how to heal.