The cart thudded over the unpaved road, the jolts bruising her hips. She worked constantly to keep the jostles from disturbing her easily disturbed newborn. She alternated between holding him at arm’s length to absorb the bumps and resting him carefully across her thighs.
The sounds of grunts and sniffles outside reminded her to be grateful that she had a place in a cart. Her husband walked beside it, along with anyone deemed able. It was thanks to her son, so temperamental, that she was not walking herself. He could cry the entire trip, and it would still be far preferable.
A ruckus arose, confused voices and exclamations reaching her and the others in her enclosed cart. Possessing the good fortune to be next to the window, she looked out, immediately observing the source of the commotion.
A pillar of light shot into the sky, so far away that it was no thicker than a strand of hair, yet so bright that it could be seen clearly, even through the slight overcast. It shone straight into the sky, piercing it like a divine spear. It had to be hundreds of miles from the south coast. Maybe it was from the Crater?
What did it mean?
A woman crouched in shadows stared from the mouth of an alley, still as a ghost. The evening sun cast red rays across the wide street as people hurried home. Wealthy citizens in lavish robes of myriad colors walked at a leisurely pace, chatting and laughing with their fellows. They paid no mind to others who hurried to and fro, dressed in mute colors and scratchy linens, carrying burdens of cloth or buckets.
The shadows grew longer, and the rays of light vanished as the sun sank beneath the horizon, yet the woman did not move. Her silver braid hung limply against her back, her body completely still. She did not sweat, nor did she shake from the exertion of maintaining her crouch. She appeared a statue rendered in incredible likeness, but inanimate.
As the final glow of twilight faded, and the gentle chill of a summer night settled upon the city, the woman withdrew a flask from inside her shirt, only her arms moving. She raised it to her sharp blue eyes, which nearly glowed in the darkness. Removing the cap, she splashed water into them, unblinking, before placing the flask back into her shirt.
She wore a dark blouse of coarse linen beneath a brown robe of the same fabric, neither fine nor poor quality. She wore a pair of sturdy boots, though, if inspected closely, one would find worn leather pads covering the soles.
A door opened in the side of the fence ringing the perimeter of the mansion before her, and she moved. She quickly drew the flask from her shirt, inhaled its contents sharply, flicked it back into her shirt, and exhaled, ejecting water from her windpipe without a flinch or a sound.
A mousish woman emerged from the fence door, closing it quietly behind her. She looked around quickly, scanning every direction before starting forward, across the street toward the alley, wringing her hands before her as she walked.
The silver-haired woman’s face, previously neutral, carved from stone, shifted to a warm smile, the transition abrupt. She gave a small wave toward the woman crossing the street, stepping back further into the shadows and leaning casually against the wall.
“Beth,” the woman hissed, stepping into the alleyway, twitching her head as she obviously resisted the urge to glance behind.
“Gwen, good to see you,” Beth replied, the image of nonchalance.
“Beth, some of the other servants mentioned a woman called ‘Liza’ matching your description and drinking dwarves under the table. Are you really who you say you are? I’m taking a big risk by—” Gwen started, growing increasingly frantic.
“Gwen, Gwen!” Beth said, quietly but forcefully, gripping the tiny woman by both shoulders and looking her in the eyes. “Beth is short for Elizabeth. Surely you don’t expect me to use my respectable name when I’m cavorting in the taverns, do you?”
“Oh, I-I guess that makes sense,” Gwen stammered, her shoulders drooping.
“How’d it go?” Beth asked, releasing Gwen’s shoulders and leaning back against the wall once again.
“Good! I don’t know why you want the kitchen’s pies so much, but the door is unlocked. Slipping one or two out shouldn’t be too much—” Gwen started, her natural cheer returned.
She stopped as Beth grabbed her hand and dropped a heavy pouch in it. Gwen’s hand sagged, the weight more than she expected from such a small thing. She untied the strings and gasped, staring at more coin than she would make in an entire year.
“Beth! W-w-what is this?!” she exclaimed, her voice echoing off the stone alley walls.
A blue fog suddenly appeared, thick and suffocating. Gwen swayed on her feet, so overwhelmed by the wealth in her hands that she barely noticed. Beth caught her as she fell, leaning her head gently against the wall, where she slumped over, as if she had passed out drinking. Beth took the pouch and tucked it carefully into Gwen’s shirt, hidden.
“Sleep, child, and wake knowing you did a good deed and were properly compensated for it,” Beth said, her face once again neutral, as if her earlier cheer were a mask she removed.
She stood and stalked across the street, her steps silent, muted by the leather soles. She opened the door and slithered through, closing it quietly behind her. She hugged the fence, a dark mist nearly invisible in the low light around her, obscuring her form.
She reached the manor and, finding it unlocked, as promised, turned to look at the shack across the lawn behind her. Tiny windows as small as her hand dotted the wall, metal bars covering them. They were open, the inhabitants likely attempting to catch any fresh air the night breeze could provide through the minuscule openings.
Even so far away, suffering and pain wafted on the wind, ignored by the guards circling the manor’s yard. The guard in front of the shack, whose door was reinforced with metal bars, yawned languidly even as stifled cries rang out from the building.
Beth’s neutral face darkened, a thundercloud crossing it. With tightly clenched fists and sure, silent steps, she entered the manor, closing the door behind her without a sound.
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