Shadow Blessed (The Shadow Accords Book 1) (11 page)

“It’s nothing.”

“Nothing? We could have been killed because you wanted to keep him from getting killed.”

“We weren’t in any real danger,” Carth said, though she didn’t believe it. Had the A’ras found them, there wasn’t any telling what he might have done to them, but hiding Jhon—whoever he was—while she had one of their knives would have been a sure way of getting all of them hurt.

“You’re not going to say anything more?” Kel asked.

“What do you want me to say?” Carth asked. “That I watched as my mother was killed by someone who killed
them
without any more concern than you would have for swatting a fly? That the man you knocked out seemed to know something about my family and about what had happened, so that I could finally get answers? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Kel took a step back, looking as if he had been slapped. “I didn’t know.”

Tears welled in her eyes and Carth stormed away rather than let Kel see her crying. She didn’t need him or Etan to tease her any more than they already did. “I know. You’ve been more concerned about whether I was a real stray. And maybe I’m not, but that doesn’t mean that I have anyplace else to go!”

She ran down the street, hiding her eyes, wanting to get as far away from him as possible.

F
or the first
few days after she had protected Jhon, the relationship between Carth and Kel and Etan grew even more strained. As much as she wanted to repair that connection, she struggled. Something had changed for Kel that night, much like something had changed for her.

The small boy Hal brought in stayed on the top bunk. Stiv was the first stray Hal had brought to them since Carth’s arrival. Etan made a point of tormenting him, much as he had tormented Carth during her first days. She wondered if he had done the same with Kel, though the two of them seemed to have something of a friendship now, even if they had not always. Would she develop the same with Etan over time? The longer she knew him, the less likely it seemed. More and more, Etan seemed mostly interested in disappearing during the day, leaving her and Kel alone.

Even with Kel, Carth remained alone. No longer did he stand along the shadows of the street, watching for targets. He preferred to keep a distance, as if seeing Carth’s willingness to help Jhon had changed something for them.

Worse was that Vera and Hal seemed distant. They had welcomed her to the tavern and had given her a place to stay, but she no longer felt the same warmth from them. Vera never treated her any differently and willingly accepted the coins Carth offered, but her eyes wore a flat expression when before there had been depth.

Stiv followed Carth most days. She hadn’t the heart to keep him from following her, and with Kel shutting her out, it was nice having someone with her. He wasn’t a bother, not really, and his deep brown eyes watched her with a bright curiosity.

“Why do you keep sneaking away?” he asked her on the third day since he’d come to the Wounded Lyre.

It shouldn’t be her explaining to him what was expected of him, should it? Kel or Etan did a better job and had been here longer. Etan had offered to work with Stiv, but the boy had so far avoided him. Kel and Etan stayed together as they often did, watching her from across the street.

“Doesn’t matter,” Carth said.

Stiv held up the sack Vera had given him. “Vera wants me to sell these sweetbreads.”

Carth nodded. “Good luck.”

“Is that what you do? Are you finding a better place to sell your breads?”

Carth glanced at Stiv. She didn’t want to be the one to tell him how she managed to collect all the scraps she did. Let him remain untouched by the seedy side of the city. He didn’t deserve whatever had made him a stray—none of them did. Let Stiv hold on to that innocence a little longer.

“That’s what I do.” She started away from him, not wanting to lie to him any more. It was bad enough that Kel and Etan had drawn her into their collections. She didn’t want them to draw Stiv into it as well.

As she crossed the street, Stiv caught her and grabbed onto her arm. “How are you selling them? I haven’t managed to sell any!”

Carth turned and faced him, leaning forward to meet his eyes. “Do what you have to to collect enough to keep yourself safe,” she said.

Stiv blinked. “Safe from what?”

Carth glanced back at the tavern. From what? Not Vera and Hal. They had welcomed her when they didn’t have to, and now they feared she’d brought the attention of the A’ras to their tavern.

“How did you end up here? Where did Hal find you?” she asked.

Stiv looked to the ground. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Carth had assumed that Hal brought Stiv here to help him, but what if that wasn’t the case? “Did he force you to come?” she asked.

“What? No!”

“Then where?”

Stiv swallowed. “My family… they’re gone. Caught in the fighting.”

“Why?”

Stiv frowned. “They’re Reshian, like you.”

“I’m not Reshian.”

Stiv’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t serious when I said that.”

Carth sighed. “I’m not going to hurt you, Stiv. Just do your best to sell the breads. Otherwise you’ll have to learn to collect scraps.”

“Collect what?” Stiv asked.

She hadn’t determined how old he was. Possibly eight, but he was skinny enough that he could pass for much younger. The clothes Hal had found for him were a few sizes too big. Mostly they looked to be Kel’s castoffs. His wavy brown hair hung to his shoulders and had been matted until Vera had taken the time to wash it.

Carth pulled one of the coin purses that she’d snatched from well-dressed men from her pocket and shook it. “Coins.”

His eyes widened as he stared at the coin pouch. “Where did you get that?”

She debated answering, but how could she keep that from Stiv? He was a stray, no different from her. “Either you sell breads or you collect scraps. That’s what you need to learn. Either way, you bring what you get to Vera.” And then she would use it to buy protection from the A’ras. Or had. Would it still work? Would they be safe from them?

“Scraps?”

She nodded. “You’ll learn to collect enough. It’s your way of thanking her and Hal for giving you a place to stay and a place to sleep.”

Stiv reached for the purse. Carth let him have it. It was easier for her to collect coins than for him. “How am I supposed to do this?”

She wanted to teach him, to show him what he would need to do, but that wasn’t why she was here. There were things she needed to learn, and that meant she had to find Jhon, discover what he knew about her family and how he seemed to know so much about her.

“Ask Kel. Or Etan. He’s a little better than Kel anyway.”

She nodded toward the other boys. They stood too openly, and when Kel lumbered toward the man he targeted, Carth could tell he wouldn’t be able to hide himself as well as he needed. For someone who was supposed to collect scraps, the same person who had taught her, he did a poor job of it.

“What can they show me?” Stiv asked.

Carth grabbed Stiv by the shoulders and guided him across the street. She stood in the shadows between a pair of buildings, wanting nothing more than to hide. A cloud moved over the sun, giving her a bit more coverage as she watched. “See what he does?” Carth asked, pointing to Kel.

Stiv watched Kel, and his eyes widened when Kel bumped into the man and lifted a purse from his pocket. Kel immediately turned toward an alley and disappeared. The man took a few steps before patting his pocket and apparently realizing what had happened. With a shout, he turned and chased after Kel, but Carth knew he would be safe. He might not be clever with his hands, but he would be quick in the alleys.

“What did he do?” Carth asked.

Stiv looked up to her. “He… he
stole
.”

Carth nodded. “Decide what you’ll do. And don’t tell Vera. You don’t have to collect scraps the same way Kel does. If you don’t, then you sell the sweetbreads, make a few copper nils a day, and bring those to Vera.” She shrugged. “If you do, and if you get lucky, then you can collect a bit more. Either way, you’ll be safe.”

“What happens if I don’t make enough?”

“You will.”

“But if I don’t?”

Carth watched Etan standing on the side of the street, eyeing her and Stiv. “You’ll be fine.”

She patted him on the shoulders and left him.

Carth slipped along an alley, getting away from the docks and away from the noise, making her way through the city. She paused at the herbalist, tempted to return. Were she to learn an honest trade, wouldn’t it be at a place like that? Her mother would have wanted her to learn. They were lessons that she had tried teaching her, but Carth had only been interested in playing games with her father. Because of that, both of her parents were gone.

The old woman in the shop must have been looking out the window. She pushed open the door and waved to Carth, motioning her into the shop.

“Have you come for more nevern oil and vashi leaves?”

Carth shook her head. She eyed the bins of branches before turning to the wall of oils. Even her mother would have been impressed with the variety. “What you gave us the last time was enough. Thank you.”

“Gave? Who said I gave you?”

Carth bobbed her head and fished the vial out of her pocket before handing it back to the woman. That must have been why she had wanted her to come back to the shop.

The old woman waved her hand. “I didn’t really worry about that. I know enough craftsmen who can make me more.”

Carth paused at the shelf with the leaves. Many were in jars, and powdered. She remembered going with her mother when she collected leaves, and her mother playing a game of asking the name of each leaf she collected, and then asking how best to store them. As much as Carth cared for her mother, she had no interest in herbalism. Her mother had never said it, but Carth suspected that disappointed her.

“How do you get so many different varieties?” She leaned forward, recognizing flatwort leaves. These were spotted with wide purple splotches, harvested when the flatwort would be the most potent.

“I collect them,” the woman answered. “What herbalist does not collect her own supplies?”

“But you can’t find flatwort anywhere around Nyaesh, and the goldenrod is much brighter than what you can find near here.”

The woman stared at her with a funny expression. She lifted the jar containing the goldenrod leaves. They were a brilliant gold like their namesake, and the long, slender leaves rolled into a tube shape. The variety around the city had a much paler color, one that matched Stiv’s hair.

“You know of goldenrod?”

Carth nodded absently as she moved along the shelf, looking at a few other items. “My mother would drag me along when she harvested leaves.”

“Your mother is an herbalist?”

Carth glanced up. “I don’t think she would call herself that. She had an interest.” She shrugged. “She was always mixing concoctions for my father and me.”

“Ah, I should have known you had some talent when you first came to my shop. Not many understand the different oils, particularly nevern oil.” The herbalist smiled. “You don’t sound as if you were impressed by what she makes for you.”

“Made,” Carth said. She was proud of herself that she didn’t begin crying when speaking of her mother. It had taken her a long time to reach that point, but now she could think on her without the tears flowing, and without the painful knot forming in her throat, and without the gnawing in her belly that she’d once had.

The herbalist nodded. “She is gone, then.”

“She is.”

“Ah, so many lost these days, especially with what happens outside of the city.”

Carth didn’t know much about what happened outside the city. Her parents had protected her from it, but they had always moved her south.

“There are few who take an interest in such things,” the herbalist went on. “Alchemists do. Herbalists such as myself. Healers understand that different plants and oils can be used in healing salves and medicines. I have not heard of too many with a passing interest.” The herbalist slid the jar back onto the shelf and stopped at the counter, leaning on it. “Did she have a shop such as this?”

Carth shook her head. “I don’t think she ever sold what she made. If she did, I never saw it.”

The herbalist smiled, but this time it didn’t reach all the way to her eyes. “You and your father were her only customers! Almost as if you had your own shop.”

“My mother would take her powders as well,” Carth said.

“Of course she would,” the herbalist said. “All good practitioners do.” The woman used the counter for support as she weaved around to the other side. “You have an eye for herbs, you know.”

“I don’t have an eye. I recognized the ones that my mother showed me.”

“Interesting that she would teach you about flatwort.”

Carth looked up from the row of dried fruit. Most were berries she recognized, though some were more exotic than anything that she would normally find in Nyaesh. Why hadn’t she noticed that when she had been here the last time?

But then, she had been more concerned about Kel. She had wanted to do anything to help him mask the bruising, and disguise it so that Vera wouldn’t see it and get upset. There hadn’t been the time—or the interest—to wander through the herbalist’s shop.

“Why is that interesting?” Carth tried to think about what she’d learned of flatwort, but those memories were hazy. She’d never
really
paid attention when her mother demonstrated the different leaves. When she would get going talking about them, Carth often started to lose focus, not paying the same attention to her mother as she gave to her father when he discussed strategies for following someone, or how he could climb onto rooftops.

“Oh, there are plenty of uses for flatwort, but unless you know what you’re doing, the plant is dangerous. The leaves are similar to another—”

“Gardash,” Carth said, the name coming to her.

The herbalist watched her a moment. “Yes. It is called that in some places. In Nyaesh, it is known as shadesbreath. A deadly plant, and one that is much too like flatwort for most. With flatwort, the leaves have three larger spots. With shadesbreath, they are smaller, but still three.” She smiled. “The other differences are more difficult to detect.”

Carth remembered her mother describing something about gardash. Wasn’t it something about veins on the bottom of the plant? She couldn’t remember.

“Worse, they grow in many of the same climates.” The woman rustled behind her counter and pulled a jar out, which she set on the counter. Inside were leaves that looked no different than the flatwort that the woman had in the other jar. Carth doubted she would have been able to pick one out as different from the other.

“Why is gardash—shadesbreath—so dangerous?”

“Ah, because most die simply touching the leaves.”

Carth glanced at the jar and wondered why the herbalist would even have such a thing here, especially if it was that dangerous. Did she
want
someone to accidentally grab the jar and get poisoned? “Most?”

“Not all would suffer. Like many things, there are those immune to that particular effect.”

The herbalist shook the jar slightly and then set it back under the counter. “Better not to pay much attention to things like that,” she said. “Too many have suffered, especially here.”