Book 3, Chapter 11 - Fishmongers Borough (2/2)
“Please allow your humble servant to make amends. This isn’t because of incompetence. The people of the north are cunning and active. To avoid elysian soldiers, they are often forced to move about. The place called Fishmonger’s Borough has likely been moved a dozen times just in the last year. There’s no way of knowing its exact location today.” Hammont stopped there. Making any more excuses would be counterproductive. He went on determinedly. “You don’t need to worry, sir. I swear to spare no effort in finding out everything I can, or demand answers from the intelligence service of Skycloud. Give me a few days and I’ll have your answers.”
Cloudhawk thought for a moment before responding. “Never mind. It’ll attract too much attention if you start asking questions about something so far outside of your authority. I’ll figure out where this Fishmonger’s Borough is myself, you leave it alone. Follow any other leads you find, and remember to keep the whole thing quiet.”
“Of course, sir!”
Hammont’s body might have been thick, but his mind wasn’t. He knew better than to ask too many questions. His superior was a talented demonhunter with the Polaris family at his back, finding out where a settlement was should be easy.
Sandbar Station’s magistrate hung around the store for a little longer to sell their ruse. He ordered the guards to clean up the bodies, then put up a notice to announce their findings. After a little while, Magistrate Seacrest and his lackeys dispersed.
Gabriel was seated nearby, idly working his needlepoint and paying little attention to the matter. He continued to work on his piece as he muttered, “Are you going or am I?”
“You’re tough, but you don’t know the wastelands like I do. We also don’t know the whole story. Stay here and work on your embroidery, you don’t have the survival experience I do. Let me see what sort of freak this Crimson One is. Maybe old man Polaris was right to suspect him.
“So be it.”
Gabriel didn’t offer up any argument. He didn’t have much interest in the matter from the start. Who knew what sort of dark powers this Archbishop of the Sanctum commanded? Gabriel was good at making traps. Straight fights and skulking around were Cloudhawk’s specialty. Several Gabriels together couldn’t do what he did.
Cloudhawk walked upstairs. He pushed open a door to reveal a room, empty but for the young woman curled in a corner. Her frail arms were wrapped around her legs, hugging them tight as she whimpered and shivered. When she heard the door open her whole body went rigid and red eyes snapped toward him. They were wide with fear and surprise.
Cloudhawk stayed by the open doorway. “Miss Autumn. Don’t even think about it. Someone like you has no chances of survival in the wastelands. Let me make it clear, what you saw here was nothing compared to normal life out here. The evil that exists in the wastelands is far worse than anything you could imagine.”
Autumn wiped the fluid from her eyes and nose. “You are all bad men. You’re evil. I want to go home. I just want to go home…”
This pure and innocent girl had suffered a blow that struck her to the core. She tucked her head into her legs and began to weep. She had been told by her elders that the outside world was a cruel place, but now she found it was more than she could bear.
Cloudhawk spoke over her cries. “Where do you live? I’ll take you back.”
Autumn grabbed the first thing her hand could reach and flung it at him. “You’re a beast! You can’t fool me, so give up! I’ll never tell you.”
Cloudhawk easily snatched the plate she’d thrown from the air, then strode into the room with long steps. Fear welled up in the girl as he neared her and she pressed herself to the wall, trying to disappear into the wood. There was nowhere to hide, and when the terrifying pressure settled on her she found it hard to move.
“You smell nice.”
As Cloudhawk stepped close to her, Autumn’s natural scent filled his nose. She was fragrant as a flower, a smell that was entirely different from anyone he’d encountered before. The slight point to her ears was already proof of mutation, so it had to run deeper than just cosmetic. Had her people evolved a natural scent? Autumn looked back at him, her face ashen with fright.
“You don’t need to be scared. I’m not as bad as you think.” Cloudhawk dropped the plate on a nearby table. “I’ve thought about it and I’m willing to help with your task. We’re going to Fishmonger’s Borough.”
Autumn had lost all hope, so when she heard him it was like a gust of cool air through the pits of hell. She wasn’t even sure she’d heard correctly.
“I imagine you know how to get there.”
Autumn was silent for a long time. She’d given up, only for a spark of hope to be rekindled. Innocence certainly had its advantages, though she it meant she didn’t suspect Cloudhawk might have ulterior motives. As for the location of Fishmonger’s Borough, of course she knew. Her plan had been to avoid the Sandbar, but she was forced into the outpost when she lost her people. Her goal had always been the northern barrens.
“What is it? Have you lost the courage already?”
“You’re the one with no courage! Who says I’m scared!”
Autumn didn’t know the man’s motives, but now that he’d agreed to see her to her destination, how could she refuse?
1. I think this may be a play on words. On the one hand, as the following paragraph shows, he is referring to her actual smell. However, I believe the term he uses here – 真香– is also used colloquially as a phrase to describe doing something you were determined not to do, but were forced to. Previous ChapterNext Chapte