Two children darted into the alley, chasing each other, laughing. Seraphina pressed herself against the wall to let one of them pass. The other was stopped by the old lady, who was now yelling at him, something about being a lazy scoundrel, running amok instead of helping his father at the smithy. The womandescended upon him with her walking stick, hitting him over the head and back, the boy wailing and begging her to stop.
Seraphina felt her blood boil. Well, that wouldn’t do. She’d always respected her elders, but she respected the innocence of children more. Light on her feet, she darted between the woman and the boy – supposedly the old hag’s nephew – and grabbed the stick before it fell across his hunched back.
“Run,” she whispered to him.
“What are you–”
The hag tried to pull her walking stick free. She was surprisingly strong for her age.
“What are you doing, you fool?”
Seraphina pushed her, not hard enough to cause harm, but enough that the woman landed on her backside.
“Thank you,” she said as she weighed the stick in her hand, testing its balance. It was simple, made of oak, and nicely polished. She couldn’t ask for more.
“Wait, you’re that girl,” the woman said, trying to get up and failing.
Seraphina took a step back. She could feel the hag pointing a finger at her.
“You’re the escaped prisoner. Criminal!”
She spat at Seraphina’s feet, then yelled louder.
“Watch! Watch!”
“Shut up,” Seraphina hissed at her.
The hag hissed back. “There are notices with your description everywhere. There’s one on the church door, I read it this morning. Yellow hair, a rag tied around the eyes. Escaped convict. Watch! Watch! I was robbed by a blind girl! It’s her, it’s her! Watch!”
Seraphina fought the urge to silent the menace of a woman with an expert blow to her shrieking mouth. She let out a string of irreverences and turned on her heel instead, exiting the alleyand darting into another, taking a right, then a left, another left, making her way around the main market, to the other side. She heard more yelling behind her, then heavy boots giving chase, but the watchmen were too late, and she managed to evade them. When she was certain she was safe, she stopped and doubled over, breathing heavily. She was out of practice.
This was impossible. There were already descriptions of her plastered to the walls, doors, and lampposts, and the second someone recognized her, they would start shouting for the city watch. What was she supposed to do now? Her plan had been to make herself look somewhat presentable, find something to eat, then figure out a way into Krähenstein Academy atop the hill. With no documents on her person, she didn’t know how she would convince the porters of her identity. But now that she was being hunted as an escaped convict, even approaching the academy would be like signing her own sentence, whatever that may turn out to be.
Damn it, this really wasn’t going her way.
What if Rune had been here? Would he have found a solution? It hurt to think about him in that cell, beaten up and bleeding. Alone. At least she was free to move, free to make her own destiny, as disastrous as it was. She had clean clothes on her back, and she had a stick. She was quick, light on her feet, and she knew how to fight if she had to. She would figure it out. There was no way she’d let herself be caught. No way she was going back to prison, even if the temptation slithered through her mind every hour or so, whispering that he was there, and she’d find him again if only she went back.
Back for him. Would it be so bad?
No. She was just not thinking straight because of the hunger.
Seraphina loitered around as the day grew colder and the sky darkened. She mingled with the crowd, head hung low and covered with the hood, listening for heavy boots and the clinkof weapons that always announced the approach of a watchman. She hovered around food stalls but found no way of stealing even a piece of fruit without being noticed. She quenched her thirst at the public fountain, and that helped keep a headache at bay.
Her feet hurt, so she found a spot to sit on the ground, out of the way. Slipping a hand into her right boot, she massaged her sole, pressing her fingers into the sore spots. She crossed her legs and gathered her skirt and cloak about her, cocooning herself and gently rocking back and forth in an attempt to soothe herself and chase away the cold. Soon, she would have to find a place to spend the night.
Something landed in her lap, and she jolted upright. Her fingers went searching for the tiny object, and she was surprised to find a coin. One kreuzer. So, the people who passed thought she was a beggar. She certainly wasn’t beneath begging if it bought her food. She waited another half hour, but no one offered another coin.
The reality was that Ingolstadt was full of beggars. On church steps, and even on the other side of the market from where she sat, there was competition. Beggars lived day-to-day, and the soup kitchen was the only reason they didn’t starve. At night, they would huddle in the doorways of public buildings and hope the watchmen took pity on them and let them be.
Seraphina sighed and licked her lips, her stomach a gnawing beast that was starting to consume her from within. There was something that might help her earn a few more kreuzers. She cleared her throat and tested her voice by starting with a soft hum. When she felt ready, she sang the lullaby first, projecting her voice outwards even as she kept her head low and covered, only her lips and chin visible to anyone looking at her.
“Sleep, little one, sleep,
Count your bones from head to feet...”
Two more kreuzers joined the solitary one in her lap. This lullaby always made people nostalgic for their own childhoods. She noticed a few women had stopped to listen to her. Tonight, a few children in Ingolstadt would be sung to as they were tucked into bed. Seraphina had reminded their mothers of the lullaby that spoke of the goodness of relics, before the High Harvester had turned them into weapons and started a war.
When the lullaby was over, Seraphina had six kreuzers, barely enough to buy bread. But she was getting there. If she kept singing and no watchman noticed that her hair was blond and her eyes were covered with the strip of fabric Rune had torn from his own shirt, she might make enough to buy a piece of cheese too, and an apple.
