Chapter Two

Locke froze as the girl twitched in her sleep. He had followed her from the market almost unconsciously and was crouching, arm outstretched toward a crate beside the pile of blankets. The comb was in his hand. He set it carefully on top of her pack and backed out of the tent. A couple of the scruffy beings were still gathered around the fireside telling stories, but no one looked twice at Locke. He had traded his clean clothes for dirtier attire and had dirt smudged on his face. He wasn’t sure why he was doing this, but, for some inexplicable reason, he had a nagging feeling that there was something about this girl that he needed to find out. He turned to go and nearly ran into someone.

"Sorry," he said, stepping back a little. She tilted her head at him. She looked about seventeen and was slightly cleaner than the others. She had almond shaped brown eyes and kept her long brown hair in a braid. Her dress was dirty and torn and too short, reaching only just above her ankles. There were patches on the sides where new fabric had been added when the dress couldn’t be let out any more.

"I don’t believe we’ve met, Stranger. I am Skye." She had ignored his apology. There was a silence.

"I gave you my name. What is yours?" She prompted.

"Oh! Um, I’m Locke," he replied. The girl nodded.

"Where are you from?" she inquired. Locke ran his hand through his hair.

"Danun," he answered, naming the first city he thought of. Somehow, although he could spot any lie, he was terribly inept at lying. The girl looked at him for a long minute. She knew he was lying, he could sense it from the look. She did not question him, though.

"Did you come alone?" She asked.

"No…" He replied. She raised an eyebrow.

"Where are your companions, Locke from Danun?" She inquired, a teasing smile on her face. He stuttered. "Did you come alone?" She asked again.

"Yes…" he admitted. She nodded.

"You may sleep by mine and my friends’ fire, if you wish," she told him, turning away.

He followed her and sat by the fire. They introduced themselves. There was another girl about the same age as Skye, and two boys who looked about Locke’s age. They lost interest in the stranger quickly and resumed their storytelling. Locke listened, but couldn’t concentrate on the stories. He was looking around at the little village of tents and bedrolls, wondering if anyone knew it was here, wondering if anyone thought about where the bedraggled beggars huddled in the Square slept at night. He knew he hadn’t. Finally, he drifted off to sleep next to the fire.

† † †

The Shadow waited sullenly, the only sound the dull thud of knives hitting the wall across from him. He sat on the dirt floor with his back to the wall. With every passing hour, he grew more and more nervous. Finally a stooped man emerged from a back room. He carefully stepped over the carcass of a long-dead rat and a pile of animal droppings he had no desire to identify. He tried not to look in the corners, where various things formed shapes in the shadows. Some of them had once been alive. A few still were.

The Shadow leapt up as the man shuffled over to him, tucking the last knife into a pocket.

"Well?" he demanded. The hunchback looked up at him through watery-looking blue eyes, holding out a piece of paper. The Shadow held it tightly. The writing was all there. He had managed to copy it from the blood-stained page.

"And the code?" he asked. The hunchback shook his head. The Shadow nodded, folding the paper and tucking it into the inside pocket of his coat as he turned away. He walked a couple steps away, his hands in his pockets. The hunchback looked on uneasily. The Shadow pulled the knife from his pocket.

"Run," he said, quietly. The hunchback startled, but didn’t move. The Shadow looked over his shoulder at him. There was an evil grin on his face. He was deadly serious. The hunchback ran. The Shadow let him reach the doorway before throwing the knife. It hit its target and sunk into the man’s thigh. His mouth opened soundlessly as he fell. The Shadow walked casually over, amused at the hunchback’s attempts to crawl toward the door. He knelt beside the hunchback, calmly, enjoying the fear in his eyes. He was slightly disappointed that the man was a mute. He would have enjoyed a scream of agony or two. He sighed.

Ah, well. Might as well make it quick then.

He pulled out the knife slowly, then turned and walked a few steps away before throwing it again.

† † †

Waif stretched and yawned, rubbing her eyes. It was early. She tugged on layers of clothes and tucked half a loaf of bread and two apples in her pockets before leaving her tent. She walked over to Skye’s campfire and warmed her hands. Waif breathed in the smell of the ham cooking in a skillet over the fire. Skye smiled.

"You want some?" she asked. Waif smiled and reached for an apple from her pocket. She held it out to Skye in trade. Skye shook her head. "Don’t worry about it." Waif smiled and took a bite of the apple. There was a strange boy lying by the fire. Waif thought there was something familiar about him, but brushed it off. There were a lot of strange people in the Haven after the season markets. They ended up with eggs, ham, and bread for breakfast after Ysabel, Edmund, Geoffrey, and the strange boy woke, each adding an egg, or some bread, or more ham.

After the eggs and ham cooked, they waited for the skillet to cool. Skye introduced the stranger as Locke.

"This is Waif. Don’t take his silence personally. He never talks," she informed Locke.

Waif nodded at Locke. When the skillet cooled, the six of them ate the food with their fingers. After breakfast, they and the regulars watched the others pack up what little they had.

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