Chapter 5 of
Eyes of Fire
by Lauren Stinton
[Click here to read chapter 1]
“Hamal,” Cale said, “in a place like Redsprin, a little gold can walk a long road. A fortnight’s salary in the city would be a month’s salary here. You have more than enough. In all likelihood, the innkeeper would feel he had struck an excellent bargain with a single sovereign.”
Masly made a face. That was all he did, and Cale wasn’t even looking at him, yet Cale still shrugged and amended, “Two sovereigns.”
“Better,” Masly said.
“Thank you.”
They watched Hamal.
Hamal reached up and rubbed the top of his head. He had taken off his knit cap, and his hair felt rumpled beneath his fingers. He thought he probably looked funny. “Can I have four sovereigns?” he asked at last.
Cale’s head cocked. “That is twice the amount Masly and I recommend. Why have you picked that number?”
“Well, she’s watching, isn’t she?”
They all turned and looked at the little girl in the corner. She was, indeed, watching.
“She’s just a child,” Hamal said. “I don’t know all that can be known about children, but I think it’s easy for them to start thinking things that aren’t true. I want her to think good thoughts instead. If I give the innkeeper only two sovereigns for her, she will think she’s worth only two sovereigns—she’ll think she’s worth what he said. Well, that’s not right, is it? Two sovereigns would do it, but she needs to think better than that. She doesn’t have parents. She’s alone—she needs to think better than just two sovereigns.”
At a table near the door, men started shouting at one another. The innkeeper roared a threat at them and started stomping their direction. The shouting instantly quieted, and every man at the table seemed to shrink down on himself.
“It doesn’t have to do with numbers,” Hamal insisted. “The number isn’t important. It just needs to be more than the innkeeper says.”
Gregory scribbled madly in his notebook, and he didn’t look up.
Rhyan stared at Hamal. “How did you manage to survive for hundreds of years on your own? How are you older than I am?”
Hamal frowned. “I wasn’t on my own, and I’m seventeen.”
Cale smiled. “Of course you are. Your bones tell you so.”
“They do.”
“Of that I have no doubt. Very well, Sage. You will have the amount you desire. And I won’t tell you to spend it wisely, because I know you will.”
Hamal always let Cale handle the money. Discreetly, the seer retrieved four coins from the purse he kept on his person and, beneath the table’s edge, slipped the coins into Hamal’s waiting hand.
“Here you are. I suggest you wait for an hour or two for the crowd to dissipate.”
“Dissipate?”
“Grow smaller.”
“But I don’t want to lose her.”
“Hamal, she’s been living at the inn for several months. You heard the innkeeper. I don’t think she will suddenly wander off in an hour.”
“But, Cale…”
The seer held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “It is up to you, of course. Do as you like. I won’t argue with wisdom.”
Lord Rhyan scowled. “Is this a good decision? Are we certain of this course? Sending Hamal, I mean. Forgive me, but you must admit, this is a little like sending a rabbit into a fox den.”
“But a very wise rabbit,” Masly said.
Hamal gripped the coins and grinned. “Tell me what to say, Cale. I don’t know what to say.”
Cale gave him some ideas, and Hamal squirmed off the bench and weaved around the tables to where the innkeeper stood. Rosy’s gaze followed Hamal’s movements. She sat with the bucket in her lap as she shoved scraps into her mouth.
The innkeeper saw Hamal coming and muttered something that made everyone around him laugh. “How can I help you, boy?”
The top of Hamal’s head barely came to the center of the innkeeper’s chest. Taking a deep breath, Hamal said, “You don’t have to look after Rosy anymore. I’m going to take her with me.”
A moment passed.
The innkeeper frowned. “Who?”
“The child you call Rose.” Hamal pointed at the girl in the corner. Her hand had stopped halfway to her mouth. She looked as stiff as a stone wall. “Her. I know you have been looking after her, and I am going to cover the cost of her care. You won’t need to look after her anymore.”
“Rose, eh?” The innkeeper glanced at the men at the table and then, concealing a grin, reached up and rubbed his jaw. “She’s been work. Hard work. She’s sickly, you know. Can’t earn her own keep.”
“I understand,” Hamal said politely.
“I put two kip in her easy.”
“Kip? What’s that? Is that like sovereigns?”
The innkeeper looked at Hamal as if he—Hamal—had left his mind back at the table. “Yes. Like sovereigns.”
A few of the men began to snicker.
“Thank you,” Hamal said. “Two kip, you say? How much is that in sovereigns?”
More snickers.
“Two,” the innkeeper said, drawing out the word. He stared down at Hamal and, speaking slowly and with strong pronunciation, explained, “Kips are sovereigns. The king’s money, used for buying and selling things.”
“Well, here are four kip for you. Four, not two.” Hamal held out the coins.
The large man’s hand appeared before him, palm up, and the coins clinked in his palm.
At the sight of all that gold, the laughter cut off. Hamal felt the change in the room and glanced around. “That,” he said, nodding toward the innkeeper’s hand, “should cover all your work.”
The innkeeper’s mouth worked for half a minute before words came out. “Done. Sufficient, yes. Thank you.” A strange look passed over his face. “Sir.”
Cale had spoken to Hamal about what he should ask for—certain things they would need for a little girl who had been living on the floor and eating scraps for months. “I need a clean washtub delivered up to our room. You know, one for bathing in. And clean towels too. And another bed for her. And whatever she has—shoes and a coat and other things. Oh! And I need another bowl of whatever stew that was. That was good. Rosy is going to eat like a real person instead of off the floor.”
“Whatever you require,” the innkeeper said agreeably.
Hamal grinned. “Yes, I know.”
Rosy didn’t want to go up to Hamal’s room. She didn’t even want to leave her corner. Not at first.
Hamal had to coax her, speaking with great kindness and slowness, and eventually she allowed him to take her hand and lead her out of the corner and then out of the dining room. She balked again at the base of the stairs. He thought she might be afraid of getting in trouble with the innkeeper, so Hamal crouched down and explained the situation to her once more.
“Rosy,” he said, his hand on her shoulder. “I know the dining room is where you used to live. I know that was your life for a while, but Cale and I—we’re going to take care of you now. You don’t have to stay downstairs anymore because now you’re with us. Do you understand?”
Large, dark eyes fixed tightly on his face. He looked into them and supposed it was good they no longer burned with fire. Until they figured out which god she was shadowing—well, perhaps it was good there was no fire just now.
“Do you understand?” he repeated.
She did nothing. But when he stood up and gently tugged on her hand, she followed him up the steps and into the room Hamal and Cale planned on sharing that night.
Cale, however, had changed his mind. “I will stay next door. With Masly and Chestirad.”
“But why?” Hamal asked. “She’s just a little girl. She’s not scary.”
“She is an oracle,” Cale replied, as if that would answer all arguments and questions. He hesitated. “You have not seen what I have seen, Hamal. I will be one room away if you require my assistance.”
So Cale gathered his things and left. For the next few minutes, Hamal could hear him and a few of the others speaking quietly out in the hall.
A short while later, there was a knock on the door, and two men who looked exactly alike carried the items Hamal wanted into the room—the washtub, blankets and somewhat clean towels, and even a small trundle bed. One of the legs was missing, so they’d brought a wooden block to keep everything level. The bed was so small that it resembled a bassinet, but Rosy was small and Hamal thought she would fit comfortably.
The men left and one returned, carrying a tray with a bowl of stew, a carefully folded napkin, a spoon with a wooden handle, and half a loaf of fresh bread. He hesitated at the door, and at first Hamal thought he might want to help with Rosy. As he began to understand the man was hoping for money, Chestirad happened to step out of the next room and encouraged the man to return downstairs.
Rosy didn’t seem to know how to use a spoon. Instead, she shoved food into her mouth with her fingers, watching Hamal over the bowl’s rim as if she thought he might take the food from her. Her expression and her actions didn’t change even after Hamal spoke to her again and again and told her everything would be all right now.
Maybe next time, he thought sadly. Maybe next time she will start to realize she’s safe with us.
As she cleaned out her bowl, he told her stories about some of his adventures with his grandfather and about a dog named Amurse, who knew how to count sheep.
“He truly did!” he said. “He could count up to seven. It was amazing.”
Rosy didn’t lie down until nearly four in the morning.
From his bed against the wall, Hamal could hear her heartbeat—steady but fast, like a nervous little deer’s, and he grieved over the fear he’d felt in her bones. Oh, little child. This place has taught you bad things.
Lying on his back, hands folded under his head, he waited to close his eyes until he heard her heart slow and knew she had gone to sleep. Finally. How long had it been since she had gotten good sleep in this place? And in a real bed, although this one was old and falling apart. At least she could sleep tonight in peace and be gone from here tomorrow forever.
Her gift, he soon discovered, was not asleep at all.
– H –
Comment below or click here to find us on Facebook. Copyright notice: © 2020 by Lauren Stinton. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.