PDCOO Chapter 14

"Pardon?"

"The guards' level of armament is low. Their limit is probably catching armed thieves. The walls also show signs of hasty construction. From the height alone, and the purposeless finish at the top, this is clearly a stone barrier put up in a hurry during the war—"

Anna's hand clapped over his mouth.

It was fortunate he was seated. If he hadn't been, no one in the cart could have reached.

The guards, mercifully, seemed not to have heard.

The village chief grumbled under his breath.

"Blast it. Anna, when that man looks about to say something—just keep his mouth covered."

"...There's no need to climb. I'll mind my tongue going forward."

"Please do. You can leave and it's over for you — but we still need cloth from this city!"

At the gate, the chief greeted the guards cheerfully. They puffed up their chests and waved the cart through—then spotted Bertram folded into the back, and their expressions went rigid.

"Chief, that man..."

"What? He's not dangerous!"

"He came through a week ago looking for whoever he owed money to, gave us quite a time. I mean, he's not bad, but isn't there something a bit odd about him?"

The guards murmured to the chief, but the sound carried perfectly clearly. Anna clamped her hands firmly over Bertram's ears and glared.

The inspection was done with regardless. The cart passed through the gate. From behind them, voices drifted back.

— Country peddlers again, what a bother. No decent-looking women this time either.

— Nothing but little girls...

"Chief."

"What is it, Anna."

"Can I go back and hit them once each?"

"Save that fire for haggling. — Bertram, come with me. I need a man with a frightening face when I sell the wolf pelts."

Bertram didn't refuse. He went with the chief through every leather shop in the small city.

After making the full circuit, the chief came back to Anna and Lara shaking a coin purse with evident satisfaction.

"Good—this is enough to drink until my nose falls sideways tonight!"

"Chiiief. Do you think we hauled wolf pelts all this way so you could drink? The handles on the communal farm hammers have been rotting away..."

"...Tch. Should've left you home. I'll go look at tools—you and Lara sell your things and come back."

"Yes, sir! Chief—don't just buy a hammer, please get some nails too!"

"Right, right. —Bertram, go with the girls."

The chief shoved at Bertram's back.

Bertram didn't budge half an inch, and asked:

"This time I follow Anna and flex my arm whenever a buyer tries to lowball the price?"

"Anna haggles fine—just make sure no trouble finds them. There are men in the city who target country girls. Play her older brother. I usually send Dieter for this sort of thing, but his ankle is broken, inconveniently."

"Dieter usually plays Anna's older brother?"

"Ha! That man can't play anything but Anna's henpecked husband!"

The chief laughed and slapped Bertram on the back.

Anna and Lara were already some way ahead. Bertram caught up in a few long strides.

Anna's blood sausages sold quickly. The butcher she regularly traded with bought the lot. Anna was satisfied with the price—but Bertram flexed his arm just in case. The result: the butcher owner, who looked like he might weigh approximately as much as Bertram, appraised him with professional gravity.

"Looks like you've been eating nothing but lean meat and doing nothing but exercise. Get some fat in you. That's how butcher shops survive. That's how countries survive."

"...I will take that to heart."

The conversation with the man who evaluated all of life through the lens of meat ended there.

'Was that even useful?'

Bertram was considering this when Anna, tucking away the sausage money, gave him a small grin.

"The butcher always intimidated me a little—but with Mr. Bertram there, he said such funny things! Thank you!"

...He couldn't entirely follow the reasoning. But it wasn't bad.

The trouble next fell to Lara.

No one would buy her rough gemstones.

She'd said she wasn't expecting much—she'd come for the experience of selling. But shop after shop dismissed her the moment she mentioned stones, and Lara's face was setting into the expression of someone whose stubbornness has hardened past the point of softening.

They'd circled around until the last place they stood was a pawnshop.

The pawnshop was on the second floor, and getting there was no simple matter. What passed for stairs—haphazardly stacked wood scraps—creaked at the brush of a passing breeze.

Anna shook her head.

"This already looks like a lost cause. This isn't the right place."

"I don't need to sell high. Even one coin to bring home would be worth it!"

Lara's face was red with the stubbornness of someone who'd been dismissed all day.

"Papa always says things like this don't make money, that I've got ideas above my station... I want to throw proof in front of him and smile. Even if it's just enough for one piece of candy."

"You could just borrow money from me instead."

"That's all right. We're not close enough for that."

"You just say things like that so casually?"

"I am completely furious right now! I'll be right back!"

Lara stomped up the stairs. Anna watched her go and leaned against the wall.

She'd be rejected and back within a minute. Following her up seemed pointless.

...But the expectation was betrayed.

Anna waited long enough for a worm to inch from one edge of shadow to the other. No sound of returning footsteps.

The stairs had groaned like the world was ending when Lara climbed them.

Now: nothing.

Anna didn't wait any longer. She put her foot on the first step.

"Mr. Bertram, wait here. If you come up too, the stairs will collapse."

"But going up alone doesn't seem like a wise choice."

"If the stairs collapse with both of us on them, we'll both be trapped. If I'm not out in five minutes, call the guards."

Anna settled the situation neatly and climbed.

The smell grew stronger as she neared the second floor. Old dust. Tobacco. And—something else. A strange perfume that didn't belong.

With unease settling cold across her back, Anna pushed open the pawnshop door.

The pawnshop manager—a heavily bearded man—gave a low whistle.

"A cute little customer. What brings you here? We don't carry candy."

Swallowing her irritation at being treated like a child, Anna looked around.

Smaller inside than it appeared from without. The walls were covered entirely in curtains, hiding whatever lay beyond. And there was no sign of Lara.

The cold across her back spread.

And the man was idly turning over, in his hands, what were unmistakably Lara's gemstones.

Anna made herself calm. Made herself seem like she'd noticed nothing.

"Sir, have you seen my little sister?"

"Little sister? Not older sister? ...Ah."

He realized immediately that he'd said the wrong thing. His expression darkened, then tried to become a smile.

"Looking for someone. Sit down a moment—I'll ask around. What does she look like?"

"Mm. Black hair, ear-length. And blue eyes."

Lara had brown hair and green eyes. The description was nothing alike. The man relaxed, slightly.

"Right. How tall?"

"Fairly tall. Taller than me. The kind where you'd look once and think: oh—that's a bear."

"At your height, most men would look like bears. Just a moment—don't go anywhere."

The man pressed Anna into a chair and went downstairs. The creaking was particularly loud on the way down. If Bertram had set foot on those stairs, they'd have collapsed outright.

The moment the man was out of sight, Anna yanked back the curtains.

Behind the swaying cloth: row after row of wooden doors. Every single latch was on this side.

Not locked, at least. One small mercy.

'Can't call out to find her—I'll have to open them one by one?'

Thinking was slower than doing.

Anna was pulling open doors in sequence when she saw it—a hint, sitting in plain sight.

One door had a curtain caught in it.

As if someone had been shoved through in a hurry.

She pulled that door open. Inside: Lara, buried in a heap of cloth, face streaked with tears. Nothing more to consider.

Anna wrapped an arm around Lara's waist and moved for the exit.

She was calculating whether they could both make it down the stairs at once when Lara suddenly cried out.

"Miss Anna, Miss Anna!"

"Quiet. He might come back up—"

No. That wasn't it.

A cold premonition spread across Anna's back.

"Well, well. Two guests. Sisters running away from home together?"

No time to turn around.

What entered her vision first: an arm reaching over her shoulder, smelling of tobacco.

Anna tried to dodge it.

But the man wasn't reaching for her.