Never trust the word of a demon.
Residual energy from the night’s hunt needed slaking. Martin whistled while traversing the street southward with a spring in his step used for hunting men, not demons.
A handful of minutes later, he sat at the bar in the Stone’s Throw with a cup of ale and a bowl of chowder.
And still didn’t summon the nerve to talk to the tavernkeeper.
Chapter Eighteen
Peterstoodonthedock, watching a ship’s lights growing smaller and smaller. His heart ached for theSeabird, faraway ports, the adventure of the sea, his father, his father’s crew…
Arkenn.
For a few indulgent moments, he allowed the memories to return: finding Arkenn, burned and broken, nursing him to health, holding each other in bed.
Peter rubbed his shoulder. The more time passed, the more convinced he became that his injury had been as grievous as the crew claimed. Arkenn healed him. Like Peter now realized he’d helped Arkenn’s healing. May Arkenn be somewhere far from here. Somewhere safe. Somewhere fanatics didn’t kill mages.
Had Arkenn found a lover, making a good life for himself? Did a ragged pirate’s son ever cross his mind?
The two boys Peter found in the warehouse now nestled aboard the ship he watched, on their way to their new life, with a couple who’d keep them safe—along with their little dog, all of them much cleaner after Addie’s tender attentions.
From somewhere, she’d procured an amulet for each of the boys. Coin helped. What would Da say if he knew Peter spent theSeabird’sill-gotten gains on getting mage-born out of the city?
Nothing stopped Peter from leaving. He could sell the tavern, for he’d gotten offers, or surrender it to Addie, but where would he go? Besides, his heart said he must stay here, for what he couldn’t say.
A tiny flicker on the ship’s deck could have been the older boy saying goodbye. Hopefully, the ship wouldn’t suffer the same fate as the warehouse.
Peter turned away, making his way back to the main street, still bustling with nighttime activity.
A handsome young man caught his eye. “Eve’, sir.” He tipped his hat in the way Peter knew meant he’d put himself on offer. While men with men were judged harshly, supply and demand meant a plentiful selection of male night workers.
The man was slight, with light hair, and for a moment…
Nah. The man caught Peter staring and gave a languid smile. “Looking for some company? Someone to keep you warm on this chilly night?”
Peter shook himself out of memories. “What? Oh, no. My apologies. No offense.”
“None taken.” The man drifted close enough for Peter to smell his bathing soap. “Some other time, perhaps?”
“We’ll see.” If not for a full tavern awaiting his attention, would Peter have accepted the offer? How long since he’d enjoyed the pleasures another man could bring? How much longer could he do without? He no longer lived with Addie, not that she’d have cared who he brought home, but still, word about his desire for men in the wrong ears could hurt business, which could hurt Addie, and hurt the young mages she found and secreted out of harm’s way.
The night air held the crispness of autumn, bringing to mind lands where leaves turned gold, red, and orange. Then snows came. Snow seldom fell in E’Skaara. The trees here also never lost their leaves. Maybe someday Peter would go adventuring again, enjoy such sights once more.
Travel to lands he’d heard of in stories.
He cut down an alleyway to avoid additional propositions, taking a shortcut learned long ago.
Ssssllllllssshhhh!What was that slithering noise? Peter paused, squinting into the dimness. “Hello? Is anyone there?” A flash of purple flickered at the edge of his sight, gone when he turned. Must have been a trick of the darkness or perhaps a cat’s eye.
If so, why did his heart pound so wildly? He hurried, quickly making the next turn.
And stopped cold. A figure stood before him, holding a lantern.
“Don’t be afraid. I’m not here to harm you.” A man’s voice, soft and melodic. The blinding light kept Peter from seeing clearly.
“Who are you?”
“A priest of the Father. You’re not safe here. Leave.”
