The Blade and The Bird

Chapter 9

Sidra felt the chill immediately and pulled her jacket tighter around her. They had been down in that room a while, and now nightfall was upon them. Sidra and Baron had gotten a good lead from the elves in what she had decided to call the safehaven. She took a deep breath of air, glad to be out of the haze that had been down below. Baron was next to her, he looked up and down the alleyway for people before the two of them began to walk back toward the main streets of Yariky.

"I didn't know you were friends with erm, well... Moroi," Sidra lowered her voice as she said the last part. She knew no one was around, but the dark of the alleyway and the fact they had just left a room full of Mythics in the middle of the city left her feeling anxious. She would feel better under the yellow glow of the streetlights.

"Yeah," Baron said, "I've known Mihai for several years. I'm not usually a fan of their kind, the whole feeding bit, but they're an alright company."

"You know, you still haven't told me what you are," Sidra pried. She spoke in hushed tones, knowing talk of Mythics within the city was not a good idea even in the quiet of the night.

"That's a story for another time," he answers shortly.

Sidra noted that he had a tendency to say that when it came to his past. He seemed more sullen in the city as well, Sidra briefly wondered if he too felt more comfortable in less populated places. Or maybe, it was because they were both Mythics in a place that rounded them up and executed them. She didn't pry further.

The streets were far less busy than when they had first stepped foot into the city. When it got dark out, people returned to their comfortable homes, the yellow glow from several of these windows casting light onto the nearby streets. She could see people through the windows cooking and reading while some had their curtains drawn to hide away from the nighttime world.

"We're going to have to find a place to sleep tonight. We'll have to look for a carriage or a horse in the morning. We can't make the walk from here to Buyra on foot, it's at least two weeks away, and far to the West," Sidra said.

He nodded in agreement.

"Perhaps we should have stayed where we were," he said aloud thinking. "Though, I don't trust half of them enough to sleep near them."

"I don't know about an inn either," Sidra added, "Last time we did that didn't end well."

"We could always go see if any carriages are leaving now," Baron suggested. "We can offer them some money to give us a lift to the next town, perhaps sleep a bit on the way."

Sidra pulled her coin pouch out of her pocket and gave it a sad shake. She hadn't found much money in her home when she had left, and after the market, she didn't have much left at all.

"I don't have much money left," Sidra said. "Worth a try to get a carriage though."

"Don't worry about that," Baron said. "We'll make it work."

The two of them decide to not walk down the main street, taking a back road that follows along the main street. They see the area where the carriages are housed.

Sidra noticed that the clearing was rather spacious. It was packed dirt that rose up like dust when a horse or a carriage moved across it. Next to the parked carts was a large fenced field where Sidra could see a few horses roaming about. There was a trough near one side of the fence for the horses. This city was further inland and goods were brought in mainly by carts, so the area where the carts were housed was well-maintained.

Sidra could see a handful of people tending to their carts, checking the wheels, and restocking wares they may have needed to take to some of the smaller unincorporated areas near the major city. She saw several men talking loudly amongst each other, occasionally taking sips from flasks from their hips. That's when Baron nudged her and pointed to an elderly man standing several feet away from them. He wasn't socializing with the rest of the men talking amicably nearby, he was alone, and he looked like he was getting ready to leave the city. He looked like a seasoned traveler, thinning white hair on top of his head, lines etched into his face from age. He was throwing a few empty baskets on top of a handful of hay bales.