Chương 21: Chapter 20: Eloquent Lies

The rest of the routine continued with the heavy normalcy of the inevitable: the steaming porridge in the dining hall, the collective murmur of the prayer of thanks guided by Anya's serene voice, and the personalized farewell at the gate that small caress of humanity that the sister of charity granted to each woman before throwing them back into the day's torrent. Selena received her "May the Flow guide you, little one" with a nod of her head, but her mind was no longer there.

She oscillated between two thoughts like a leaf tossed by opposing winds. On one hand, Lyra's words still burned in her memory: the bonfire, the heretics in gray and brown robes consumed by the flames of orthodoxy, the black smoke rising toward a sky as indifferent as that of every other world. On the other, the practical, urgent, almost desperate need to find Rolus.

The boy was the key, the first link in a chain that had to lead her toward the truth of the original Selena, toward the mystery of her own usurped existence. But she had learned something in these days of foreign skin and dirt streets: truth, in this world, was a dangerous luxury. If she wanted to pull the strings, she needed a well-woven lie. One strong enough to convince the two people who occupied her mind at that moment.

She spotted Kaela in the distance, her determined silhouette cutting through the first morning passersby, heading as always toward the wooden bridge, toward the fish market where the smell of scales and brine was her territory. Selena took a deep breath. The morning air, still cool, pierced her lungs like a glass dagger. She clenched her fists, feeling her nails dig into her palms a gesture of strength she demanded of herself before taking the leap. She started to run. — Kaela!

— Her voice came out louder than she expected, cutting through the incipient bustle of the street. Kaela stopped and turned, one eyebrow already arched with that mixture of curiosity and skepticism that seemed to be her default expression. Selena skidded to a stop a meter away from her, panting slightly. There were no preambles. The words, mentally rehearsed all the way from the shelter, escaped her before she could contain them. —You know… I've been lying. Kaela didn't move.

Her face, weathered by years of hard work and hostile streets, remained impassive. Only that eyebrow, the left one, rose a millimeter higher. Selena swallowed and continued, letting the lie woven on the way flow with the terrifying naturalness that was already becoming her second skin. — As you know, I am a cloth merchant's daughter— she said, maintaining eye contact. —That is true. The lie is that I'm not here entirely lost. I've been looking for answers about certain people.

Kaela watched her in silence, her dark eyes like pools of still water, scrutinizing every gesture, every micro-expression. Selena felt the weight of that gaze, the cold evaluation of someone who had learned to read falsehood on faces. —I lied to you about something else too— she continued, and this time she deliberately let a hint of carefully calculated shame slip into her voice. —I have money. I'm not rich, but a merchant's daughter would never have a completely empty purse. Kaela crossed her arms over her chest.

The gesture was one of defense, of waiting. Selena looked her directly in the eyes, feeling that each word was a stone she was placing in a bridge over the abyss. —I need you to help me— she said, and her voice took on a lower, more intimate tone. —You know the streets better than anyone. And I will pay you ten hard pence for each day. Lunch will be on me. The silence stretched out.

A six-legged turtle passed by them, its deep breathing kicking up small clouds of dust, indifferent to the tension cutting the air between the two women. Kaela hadn't swallowed the story; her face reflected that with the clarity of a still water mirror. But when Selena mentioned the payment, something changed in her eyes. It wasn't greed, not exactly.

It was the pragmatic calculation of someone who knows that ten hard pence is a small fortune, which could mean days without going hungry, weeks without having to clean fish under the inclement sun. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. When Kaela spoke, her voice was measured. —I have at least three conditions— she said, her eyes unblinking. —The first: you tell me who we are looking for first. The second: I want to know if we will be in danger.

The third: you will do what I do at all times. Selena did not hesitate. She nodded with the firmness of someone who has made an irreversible decision. —Then it's a yes— she replied, and a smile, small but genuine, formed on her lips. Kaela returned the smile, though it was a forced gesture, a curve of the lips that didn't quite reach her eyes. —I don't know who we are following— Selena admitted, and the honesty of that confession floated in the air like a feather. —A boy named Rolus.

He is the one with the most information. I don't think it's dangerous. She added quickly, seeing the shadow of concern on Kaela's face. —After all, as I told you, he's a child. He served as an information vertex. If a child can do it, I don't think we are in danger. Finally, I accept. I will do what you say. Kaela exhaled a long sigh, heavy with resignation. Her posture relaxed slightly, her uncrossed arms falling to her sides.

—I suppose that's the best information you have— she said, and in her voice was a hint of acceptance, of surrender to the facts. —At least the money is worth it. She shook her head, and this time the smile that grew on her lips was more authentic, a grimace of affectionate exasperation. —But by Aelthra, the next time you tell me something like that, try to be faster. For a moment I thought you were going to say the master tanner had found me and that you were coming to take me back. Selena felt a shiver.

The possibility, so real for Kaela, was a brutal reminder of the world they lived in. A shadow from the past could materialize at any corner to reclaim what it believed was its own. —I'm sorry— Selena blurted out, and this time her smile was real, a mixture of relief and complicity. —By the way… could we go first to The Traveler's Rest Inn? Rolus works there. Kaela nodded, straightening her back with a decisive movement. —Yes, let's go.

She set off without further preamble, her quick and steady pace marking the direction. Selena followed her, feeling how the adrenaline of the encounter slowly dissolved into a tense calm, the calm of one who has stepped into the void and still doesn't know if they will find firm ground. After a few minutes, the familiar low wall of uneven stones surrounding the inn appeared before them. And there, leaning against the adobe wall like a small sentinel with a distracted gaze, was Rolus.

The boy looked both ways with an attention that seemed vigilant, but Selena soon realized that his interest was not security, but the lazy flight of the nimoras gliding between the roofs of the nearby houses, their tails moving like pendulums in the morning air. Both approached. Upon reaching him, Selena crouched down slowly, bending her knees until she was at his eye level. The posture was a deliberate gesture, a way not to intimidate, to speak as an equal with the little one who held the keys to her past.

—Rolus, little one— she said, modulating her voice to reach a calm tone. —This is my friend Kaela. She's a tanner. Kaela nodded her head as the boy diverted his attention from the nimoras to rest his dark, curious eyes on her. The respectful gesture was a soft tilt. —Together we have a job for you— Selena concluded. Rolus's face lit up with that spark of enthusiasm that seemed to spring from him. He stood up straight, brushing the dust off his bottom with an automatic gesture.

—Miss and Kaela— he said, and his high-pitched but cheerful voice cut through the air. —I'm free for work. The price varies depending on the distance of the message or the errand. Selena smiled at him, feeling the tension in her shoulders loosen a bit at the boy's familiarity, at his simple and comforting presence. —Just one trip— she clarified. —I want you to guide us to the place with the sign of the nimora guarding its egg. I'll pay you two hard pence. The figure made the boy's eyes widen, but he hid it.

Selena added, like the crowning touch to the offer: —I'll treat you to lunch as well. You can even take something to your brother. Rolus didn't hesitate for a single second. His smile, wide and carefree, once again showed that gap in his teeth, that chipped front tooth that gave him an air of permanent mischief. —It's a deal— he said and held out his small hand to seal the pact with the solemnity of an experienced merchant. Selena took his hand.

The boy's skin was warm, slightly rough, and his grip was surprisingly firm. For an instant, at the contact, she felt a pang on her chest, an echo of something she couldn't name. It was the feeling of weaving a net, of moving the first threads of a tapestry whose complete design she still did not know.