The boards creak as we head up the stairs and into the hall. Doors line the walls on either side, each a private place to catch one’s forty winks. The space between each door gets wider the further down we go, the room requiring extra space for an additional bed or, as we progress, more. A window shows off the rage of nature at the very end, and only two doors remain. Kym knocks (da-dada-dada-da) on the left-hand door.
“Changed the knock already?” I ask.
“That’s a story for another time,” she says as the lock turns.
Out from within pops a head, crowned in thin silver strands that cover little of the dome. Milky eyes watch from behind glassless oval spectacles. The nose sticks out, large and hooked like a bird’s beak. The thin mouth is curled into a scowl, no signs of teeth in the small gap as she wheezes out a sound like a dying breath.
“Who’s there?” she croaks.
“It’s Kym, Nana,” my barmaid answers, slow and punctuated. “My friend is here with me, the one I was telling you about.”
“Jailbird,” Nana nearly squawks.
Nana pushes the door open and steps aside, allowing us space to cross the threshold.
The room is minorly decorated, a sole painting of a boy fishing at a river hanging on the right-hand wall. A window on the wall ahead, like the one in the hall, gives us a show of the beautiful chaotic nature. A bed for one sits under the window, its side caressing the wooden wall. Under the painting rests an identical bed. To the left is a third bed, this one wide enough for two. A dresser, plain and with three drawers, sits next to it. The corner is squared off by walls and a door to host a secluded wash room. In the center burns a pile of coal, a ring of stones keeping the rest of the room from setting ablaze. A pot hangs over the low flame; I doubt there is anything inside.
“So we upgraded, I see,” I say. “How’d you manage that? The help normally doesn’t get such fancy digs.”
“Had to bribe the owner,” Kym shrugs. “He was pretty easily swayed.”
“I could use a good swaying,” I nudge her arm with a big goofy grin.
“Gottschalk didn’t keep you company?” she jokes, taking a seat on the big bed.
“Not in the way that matters.” I take a spot on the bed, stretching out my long legs. Kym scoots up the length of the bed and relaxes back onto my stomach. Out of instinct my hand goes to her head, fingers playing with the tight little curls.
“When was the last time you washed your hands?” she asks, relaxed but snide.
“Funny thing about prison: they aren’t that big on personal hygiene,” I tell her, that smirk coming back. “Only got to bathe once a week.”
“Nasty man.” Her eyes close as my digits continue to stroke and occasionally twirl in the black.
The room goes quiet, a peaceful settling. Nana kneels on the bed, blind eyes searching for something out the window, wiry frame invisible in her too-big nightgown. The fire’s crackling is just above a whisper, my slow and deep breathing almost overwhelming it. Sleep would come easily should I allow it, but I hold tight to keeping awake. I need to enjoy this moment, this blissful comfortable silence while my love rests on me. The isolation of a cell brought out a yearning that will refuse to fade until it has been satisfied.
Questions about the map and the potential job surface, the adrenaline from the escape begging to jump on the next opportunity, but I quiet it. Sometimes it’s good to take a moment to appreciate the little things like a soft bed, good company, the sound of rain on the window. Sometimes it’s good to slow down, breathe, just be. The next adventure will still be there, waiting with eager anticipation for us to greet it. For now, there is simply us, casually entwined amongst the storm.
The door to the washroom opens. A figure emerges, tall and built like me but his skin darker like Kym’s. His hair is cropped short to match the length of his stubble. The sleeveless shirt, a pale green, hangs loose over his frame and is tucked into the black trousers. Barefoot, he steps toward the low flame. Taking off the lid of the pot, he checks its contents but is displeased by his findings. His eyes catch Kym and me then, and it takes a moment for the image to make sense. Soon after, a sly grin spreads on his face accompanied by an arched brow.
“Bust out of jail and go right to the ladies,” Max says, humored and cool. “Impressive.”
“It would be less so if he hadn’t been arrested in the first place,” Kym teases, rising from her spot.
“Neither of you would have gotten away otherwise,” I defend myself, sitting up as well.
“We had horses ready,” she argues. “All you had to do was jump the wall.”
“And all you had to do was not be seen by the guards,” I toss back.
“GRAAH!” Nana screeches from her post at the window.
The room returns to that silence, an unease filling the air now as we watch the old woman. Her focus remains on the drama outdoors, little shriveled and bony hands resting gently on the windowsill. She does not move, and for a moment I wonder if the sound was one last exclamation before Scommortod claimed her dying soul and delivered her to Baltevmt for eternity. Her head twitches, jerking up as she leans in close to the glass. She looks around for a moment, then eases back into her original position.
“Where did you find her?” My question comes as a whisper.
“It’s complicated,” Kym answers in the same hushed tone.
“Do you have the map?” Max asks.
“Map!” Nana chimes in.
“The map is safe, Nana,” Kym tells her, off-handed as if it has been said a thousand times already.
“Technically, it’s Nana’s map,” Max explains, not bothering to lower his voice. We brace for another outburst, but it does not come. “It’s…”
“Complicated,” I cut him off. “Got it. So, about the job.”
Kym and I meet Max at the fire. With a wave of her hands, three wooden chairs appear from nowhere. We each take one. She reaches into one of the little bags hanging from her waist and withdraws a small folded piece of parchment. She hands it to me, the paper far fresher than that of the map.
“It’s all in this note,” Kym says as I take it.
Scrawled in an elegant script, far prettier and refined than my own, is the message: “Hello, friend. The elderly woman who has given you this letter is my grandmother, Nana. Though she wears spectacles, you can see that she is blind. She is deaf for the most part; she is only able to hear certain things. She is also very feeble, and thus incapable of defending herself. I am in need of someone willing to bring her to her home in Everglow Wood. She has with her half of the payment, one hundred and fifty gold pieces. The other half will be given to you upon her delivery. Nana is not much trouble, save for the occasional outburst. She keeps to herself otherwise. She wishes to return home so she may, after such a long life, die where she grew up. Please help her fulfill this final desire. If you choose to take upon this task, many thanks to you. If not, please help her find someone who will. I fear she has little time left.”
“I trust we’ve already collected that first payment?” I ask, handing the note back to Kym.
“Of course,” Max scoffs. “We’re not foolish.”
“We’ve decided part of it will go toward acquiring a couple horses for the trip,” Kym says. “I’ve got a contact up in Fiona’s Rest who will give you a good deal.”
That word catches me. You. Intriguing little bastard.
“Are you not coming along, then?” my curiosity makes itself known.
“I’ve got some business to attend to elsewhere,” she answers, avoiding my gaze. A knowing look fills Max’s eyes as they meet hers for a moment. They break away, him rising from his chair and heading toward the dresser, and her turning her attention back to me.
“What kind of business?” I ask her.
“The kind that results in money,” she smirks.
“That’s awfully vague,” I joke.
“I’ll tell you about it afterwards, promise.” She holds out a pinky to me, and I take it with my own. Using that little latch, we pull each other close until our lips connect. Of all the things I had to miss out on, this sweet embrace ranks high. Other, more tender things sit higher on the list.
Something soft hits the back of my head, resting on my shoulders. I break away from my girl, turning to face the direction of the projectile. Max, with a delighted grin, sends something else my way. I catch this one in time: a pair of black pants, much like his own. From my shoulders I remove the first item, a white towel. He finishes his onslaught with a white tunic directed at my head and a pair of boots at my feet.
“Can’t be going around in your prison rags,” he jests.
“Are we leaving tonight, then?” I ask, removing the sodden shirt and drying myself off. “I was thinking we could get some rest first.” I send Kym a wink with the remark.
“You just broke out of jail,” she says, slow and direct. “The guards will notice soon, if they haven’t already, and will be looking for you.”
“Which means we need to leave sooner rather than later,” Max adds.
“Can we at least wait for the rain to stop?” I groan, changing into the fresh clothes and tossing the drenched ones back toward the door.
“The storm will provide good cover,” Kym says. “Besides, there’s already going to be a carriage arriving any minute now. So your fancy new clothes won’t get too wet.”
“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?” I muse with a humored grin.
“Someone has to around here,” she shrugs.
“HERE!” Nana shrieks.
A knocking comes from the door, three heavy thuds that reverberate throughout the space. Kym goes to it, poking her head in the gap briefly before shutting the door once more.
“It’s time,” she announces.
Kym goes to Nana, a gentle hand on her back as she whispers something too quiet to hear. Max, meanwhile, turns back to the dresser, opening the lowest drawer. From it he reveals a long sack, two sword hilts sticking out the end. He pulls them both out, revealing their leather sheaths and belts. He offers one to me, which I gladly take and put on. Pulling the hilt, I find the iron blade hidden within the sheath. Simple, effective, hopefully sturdy in case of an emergency. Max pulls out a coat from another drawer, tossing it to Kym. She catches it with ease and wraps it around Nana. She looks so tiny in it, the fur on the inside hiding her thin arms and neck. It hangs so long on her short frame it nearly reaches her ankles. Kym assists her with slipping on a pair of insulated boots. Once the hood rises, she is covered head to toe.
The rest of us, however, have less protection. Kym manifests a shawl for herself, a thick and hooded black fabric that stops with a point at her midsection. Max dons a leather jacket he pulls from another drawer. I am left with only the clothes on my back. I stow the complaint away in a back corner of my mind; it is far better than my attire as of late.
Journeying back down the stairs and through the merriment, the bard playing a new but similarly upbeat jig, we step out into the night. The storm has waned, but the wind still rages, whipping rain harshly into the street and buildings. Just outside the door waits a carriage, doors open and ready to accept us. At the helm sits a figure cloaked in grey, the rain darkening the material until it is almost black. Max climbs in first, helping Nana get in. Kym comes in close behind, making sure the old woman does not fall out. Once she is secure, I enter the carriage and take the open seat next to my girl. As soon as I close the door behind me, the horses kick off, their hooves clipping and clopping down the brick road.
Tyler Gohde 
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