Chapter 4
Tap
Frost-dusted leaves crunched softly under my feet as I traversed the forest toward the little village.
I’d managed to keep myself away from the apothecary in Vincara for over a week, but my patience had found its limit. Besides, I needed more ink. Some hollow needles as well. Perhaps a new quill, or a more complicated puzzle box as I’d already solved the one that looked like a book and had disassembled it to make my own version. Anything to help distract me from my fixation on the person with violet eyes and the crushing, fiery sensation lingering in my chest would do.
The temperature was somehow even lower than it had been when Seir and I visited, and very few people were out because of it. Smoke plumed from chimneys, everything too quiet under of the heavy weight of the cold. The snowcapped mountain range loomed behind the town, silent and seemingly endless. Somewhere up there was the stone monastery my brother had used to learn how to manage his bloodlust. I had long thought I should visit but never managed to go.
The bells on the apothecary doors chimed, announcing my entry. I was instantly grateful for the warmth of the shop.
“Welcome back, good sir!” The proprietor brightened, straightening up behind the counter. He was clad in what looked like a new vest, and a pair of shiny spectacles was perched on the top of his head. “What can I do for you today?”
I gestured toward the small area where the ink and quills were. “What type are these?”
He puffed up proudly. “Iron gall.”
To his credit, iron was more expensive but also more stable than carbon or botanical varieties.
“The blue, what is the pigment?” The depth of the sapphire color was striking. I preferred black, but the blue would certainly be lovely to use. There were several new colors on the shelf since my last visit as well—yellow, green, red, and even gold. The cost seemed prohibitive for such a rural village but there must have been buyers for such a thing or it wouldn’t be stocked.
“The broker guessed they used lapis for the color, but I’m more inclined to believe azurite or even true cobalt.”
The shopkeeper was clearly well learned about all his products. Perhaps my earlier impression of him as only interested in profits had been misplaced. His clientele must be quite pleased with his eye for detail and be willing to travel for his unique offerings. I was here, after all.
“I’ll take two of the black, and one of the blue. Should I just…” I plucked one of the bottles off the shelf.
“Yes, please take your pick.”
I chose the bottles I wanted and approached the counter, going back quickly for one of the fancier inkpots and quills on a whim. “Do you carry medical supplies?” I asked, setting those with my inks.
His head tilted to the side. “What would you be needing, sir?”
“Needles. Both with a solid core and hollow, if you have them.”
The shopkeeper rubbed at his chin. “I might have something.” He turned and started pulling open drawers. The whole wall behind the counter was made up of different sizes and shapes, it was a wonder of construction and likely filled with untold treasures. I added building one along the large wall in my workshop at the crossroads to my endless list of potential projects. “Ah!” he exclaimed, climbing down off the step stool he’d mounted to get to one of the higher levels. “These, perhaps?”
I was presented with a felt cloth displaying several silver needles in varying lengths and circumference. They looked more suited to sewing or other tapestry crafts than my purposes, but they would do with some minor modifications.
“I’ll take the lot.”
The gruff little man smiled and set to packaging up my purchases. Coin exchanged, I gathered the parcels and left the shop, oddly in no rush to return to the crossroads.
Seir would have been proud, I thought, as I casually made my way to the tavern and actually found myself enjoying the relative peace that came with my hearty meal and ale next to the fireplace. I did wonder if he was unreasonably busy in my absence or if he’d had to call in some assistance, but the notion didn’t make me as itchy as it normally would. The villagers were very good about ignoring my presence as well, which led me to believe they got a reasonable amount of people passing through. It was nice not having inquisitive eyes following my every move.
As I was paying out the barmaid, she glanced over my shoulder and frowned. “It’s best if you wait outside.”
I turned too late to see who she’d addressed, but my gut churned and my chest felt less heavy as I collected my change.
Violet eyes seared into me as I exited the tavern. “You.” The word was barely a whisper as it left their lips, but I could still feel the accusation in it.
“Hello.” I lifted a hand in greeting, immediately feeling awkward. I cleared my throat and pushed my glasses up, heart pounding.
The barmaid arrived then, shoving a corked ale jug as well as a wrapped basket at them. “Tell Father Sunday roast is chicken this week, not lamb.” She glanced between us, one eyebrow raised. “Don’t go causing trouble now,” she warned, disappearing back into the tavern. I wasn’t entirely sure which one of us she was addressing.
Eyes wide, they shifted the items around to carry comfortably and turned away, walking toward the church as fast as they could go.
“Wait,” I called, taking several fast steps to catch up. “Would you like some help?”
