Wystwood

19. Vial of burdock dust

Ada was breathless as she stooped inside the caravan, the door clattering shut against its frame like a rumble of thunder.

Min had already woken, but was only just rubbing sleep from her eyes as she wriggled out from under the rug. Florentin hurried straight to her, and shielded his daughter from the man as best he could with his long and scrawny limbs.

Ada, on the other hand, found herself with little idea on where to go. All she knew was that she wanted to leave the caravan as quickly as possible, but with the stranger looming before the only exit, she realised she would unlikely get the chance. Instead, earthenware cups became potential projectiles, and stacks of dusty books built squat barriers. She had spent the night in this room and, if she was quick, this time she may have the upper hand.

Yet the man who had seemed so interested in her only minutes before now appeared completely apathetic. Three sets of eyes trained upon his every movement, tense and waiting. But all he did was raise a solitary finger, its too many joints curling down as he slipped the door's latch shut. Ada flinched as she watched her escape evaporate.

He stretched while turning to face them, as if he was returning to his own home after a long and weary day. His leather belt rustled against a worn sheath, and within it, a sliver of a blade flickered in the candlelight. His hand came down on a shelf nailed by the door, its peeling paint catching upon his skin as he ran a finger along the vials stored inside. It paused on one that was stoppered shut and filled with a fine, flaxen grain.

"What's this?" he mused, drawing it down from the shelf. "Rare to find burdock root these days. In fact, if I recall correctly, it's also rare to find any use for it at all. Completely ineffective in cooking, brewing, medicinal purposes... That is, it's useless until imbued with magic to create a potent form of sleeping powder. Which, as we all know, would be wildly illicit within our good city. And dangerous, of course, if found in the wrong hands."

Florentin let out a shuddering breath as the man lounged back against the doorframe, fiddling with the vial's cork stopper. "What is it that you want from us?"

"What could I ever possibly want from you?" the man hissed, as though insulted by Florentin's words. "No, it's what you've been so generously providing others."

When Florentin gave no sign of responding, the man sighed, gazing around at the decorated walls before continuing, "Was it worth your travels to get the calendula by the canal?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't play coy, Florentin. Acting the fool will get you and your spawn killed before the Lady can even be bothered to cast her sights upon you." Within a heartbeat, his icy disposition had melted into flames. "I know you're casting on calendula because the man you sold them to wound up with the Hounds no less than four hours later. The Lady wasn't too happy to find out that sort of magic was floating around the outer city, and we're all aware of how closely healing lies to blood magic." His gaze flickered down to Min, who peeked out from behind her father's legs. His tone softened, almost sickly sweet as he continued, "Although, the Stone Circle could be considered a plausible origin for the plants were the right rumours to be spread. By the right individual. For the right price..."

He let his words trail off, and though they meant little to Ada, she saw their weight as the blood drained from Florentin's thin face.

"My daughter holds no great power, she'll be of no use to you, I swear it—"

"I have no desire for your amateur magic," the man spat, but then took a deep breath as if to calm himself. "Though you just so happened to have stumbled upon someone I've been looking for." Florentin seemed confused at first, but it flickered into vivid surprise when he saw that the man was now staring at Ada. "The human's coming with me. You can buy your daughter another day of life with your silence."

Cold horror caressed its cruel fingers across Ada's skin. It may have been the beginning of spring, but within that narrow caravan, it felt to her like the dead of winter.

"No!" squeaked Min, the first noise she had made all evening. But Florentin hushed her quiet and pressed her closer to his side.

If the man heard, he paid little attention to the girl. "You've obviously managed to hide your travelling with her well enough, or else I would have come by for a visit far sooner. But if word gets out that there's a human now with me, I won't be the next one to call at your door."

Florentin's eyes were dull when they met Ada's, and she already knew his answer. A great wall had been built across the caravan, and on his side was the safety of his daughter. Ada closed her eyes, took in a single breath, and steeled her nerves. Once again, she would be fighting alone.

But her eyes snapped open when Florentin turned to the stranger a final time and murmured, "You'll have no need for her. She found her way into the city by accident. She knows nothing of our world or history."

The man took a step into the room, and Ada stumbled a step back, feeling the small dining table behind her where only the night before they had shared soup and stories. His eyes were upon her when he answered Florentin in a low voice, "Don't presume you know anything of my needs."

Ada wasn't listening. Her gaze darted around the room, landing upon items at random as her mind began to whir. The window: too small for her to slip through and drawn across with curtains. A stool: broken and clumsy, would not make an effective weapon. The kettle: dangerous but too far away to reach, she remembered how quick the man was on his feet.

She felt like the field-rabbits her family caught outside their village, wild-eyed and so desperate to escape that Ada could have sworn she heard their heartbeats shaking the air. Perhaps the man could hear her own heart, as it certainly felt like it was trying to break out of her chest, pounding against something dense and pointing down her ribcage.

The man sidled towards her, looking almost bored as he kicked aside a stool and left it to skitter across the floorboards. "Well then, looks like you'll be coming with me."

"I don't think so," Ada replied, and wrenched the ebony knife from her pocket.

She was satisfied to see his apathy disappear as a number of emotions swept across the man's face. Surprise came first, followed by what Ada could only read as a subtle pleasure, which was quickly replaced by a dark glare. "I wouldn't suggest you start playing with things you don't understand."

"I know well enough how to use a knife," Ada hissed back, stepping around the table, only to find herself pinned into the kitchen corner. "And you mentioned something about cutting a heart out? Maybe I'll test your sincerity."

The man's eyebrows rose, but his stare remained cold and calculating. He made no move to come closer, but seemed to be measuring the scarce few feet between them. "As delighted as I'd be to see you try, I'm short on time."

His words were punctuated with the shattering of glass, and Ada saw that the remains of Florentin's vial were scattered across his hand. Droplets of blood marred the pale dust that piled within his palm, though the vial appeared to have cut him far less severely than Ada had expected.

She barely noticed his deep inhalation, her shocked attention still stuck upon the broken glass. It was only when he drew his hand up to his lips and blew across his skin that she thought to react. But too late, she saw his light breath pass over the glass still stuck into his flesh and catch only the powdered flecks of beige.

Ada gasped before she could help herself, and within moments her vision began to blur. She felt herself sway, tip, then fall. Hazily hoping that someone would catch her this time, the last thing Ada heard was the faint sound of Min's cries. Then, a warm darkness took her by the hand and beckoned her consciousness away.