Chương 32: Chapter 31: Voices of the Streets

That day, with the sun beginning its decline toward the horizon, painting the sky with brushstrokes of orange and purple that heralded the arrival of the evening, both women walked back toward the market street. Selena had an idea, one that had been ripening in her mind since she left the white house, a backup plan in case everything else failed. As they walked, with the market's bustle growing around them like a living organism, she explained it to Kaela.

—It occurred to me— she said, her tone light, almost casual, as if she were proposing something as simple as buying bread —that we could ask around the market about the man with the scar, the one that runs from his fingers to his wrist. Perhaps we'll get lucky. She paused for a second, letting the idea settle in the air between them. —It's just in case the other plan falls through. Kaela nodded. —It's not a bad idea— she conceded. —But it's not a sure thing we'll find anything either.

I just remember that the girls at the shelter usually give better information. In the communal hours, things are told that few ever hear. She looked at Selena, and by then, both had reached the heart of the market. The place was a hive of activity: the cries of the vendors crisscrossed to create a constant cacophony; the scent of spices, fish, and ripe fruit swirled in the hot air; and the crowd moved like a river of bodies and merchandise. They scoured the stalls. They asked about the man.

Furthermore, they asked about rumors. They asked about anything that might help Selena. But nothing. No one knew anything about the man they sought. Many mistook him for Ferris, the son of a midwife who lived in the East Ward, but Ferris had no scars; when Selena insisted on that detail, faces turned blank, gazes drifted away, and conversations died out. The sun's rays were beginning to change color, turning more golden and oblique, when they encountered a different vendor.

He was an old man, his voice cracked and harsh like ground stone, his completely white hair confirming what his voice betrayed. He sat behind a stall of dried roots and medicinal herbs; his hands gnarled like the roots of an ancient tree. —A tall boy, thin— the old man said, and Selena felt her heart leap. —I saw scars on his fingers, though I didn't manage to see the wrist, girl. He paused thoughtfully, a hand in his thick, untended beard, eyes squinting from the effort of remembering.

—I've been told he was seen following the heretics— He lowered his voice at the last word, as if naming them might summon them. —But I won't say a word about heretics without coin, girl. Selena frowned. The negotiating instinct, the one she had inherited from the man of the earth and which this world was sharpening through hard knocks, activated immediately. She held out a hard penny. The old man kept his palm stretched out. He said nothing, merely looking at her with an expression of pure expectation.

Selena added another hard penny. The man smiled, a toothless and triumphant grin, but remained silent. He waited. Selena felt her blood boil, her frustration threatening to overflow. With a quick movement, she snatched the two pennies back from the man's hand and tucked them away. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. —Then there is no deal. The old man went pale. His smile vanished as if it had never existed, replaced by a grimace of alarm.

—All right— he said hurriedly. —I'll take the two hard pennies for the information. He didn't get to finish. Selena interrupted him, her voice firm and unwavering. —I'm sorry. But I only have one hard penny and ten soft ones left. The old man looked at her with a mix of incredulity and suppressed fury. His hands shook slightly, perhaps from rage, perhaps from the desperate need for that money. He swallowed his pride with a visible gulp, as if it were a bitter bolus hard to get down. —I accept— he growled.

Selena handed over the payment. The man counted the coins with a speed that betrayed years of practice, tucked them into his pouch, and finally spoke. His voice was low and conspiratorial, as if sharing a secret that could cost him his life. —From what I heard from the washerwomen near the tanneries... — he paused dramatically, —if you follow the stream until all the water turns black, you'll find them. He turned around and left. He didn't even say goodbye.

His hunched figure vanished among the stalls with surprising speed for someone his age, as if fearing Selena might change her mind and demand her money back. Kaela looked at Selena. For a second, her face remained serious, inscrutable. Then she covered her mouth with both hands, stifling a giggle that threatened to escape. When she could finally speak, her voice was a whisper broken by suppressed hilarity. —Greed... — she gasped —almost left him with no pay at all. She couldn't hold it back anymore.

Laughter erupted, free and loud, infecting the air around them. Selena laughed with her, a belly laugh that rose from deep within, releasing the tension accumulated over the previous hours. They laughed until their ribs ached, until the curious stares of passersby fell upon them, until they remembered where they were and why. Then, still with the remnants of laughter etched on their faces, they began the walk back to the shelter. The journey felt short amidst comments and smiles.

When they reached the entrance of the Temple of the Glowing Moss and rounded the low wall of black stones to the shelter gate, the sun was already a massive, reddish sphere on the verge of vanishing behind the rooftops. And as if the world delighted in repeating its patterns, there were Anya and Kael, whispering into each other's ears while both blushed like teenagers. Kael had that timid flush they already knew well, rising up his cheeks.

Anya, for her part, covered her mouth with the back of a flour-stained hand, her green eyes shining with a mix of embarrassment and amusement. The girls said nothing. They only exchanged a knowing look, the kind of look that speaks more than a thousand words, and continued forward. When they reached them, Anya greeted them with a shy smile that tried to look professional and failed miserably. —You're back early today, girls— she said, her voice carrying a hint of gratitude for the interruption.

—Our Lady is channeling her flow. That is always a gratification for every sprout. Selena smiled, nodding as if she fully understood that blend of theology and the everyday. Kaela, beside her, maintained an expression of serious neutrality that only Selena knew how to interpret as a superhuman effort not to laugh again. Anya opened the gate for them with a wide gesture and, pointing a hand toward the interior courtyard, added: —Elara is expecting you. Remember, a new girl arrives today. Be kind.

They walked toward Elara's office, their footsteps crunching on the gravel path. Upon reaching the outskirts of the office, while still a few meters from the half-open door, Selena stopped. She reached into her bag, pulled out the corresponding coins, and, with a solemnity bordering on the theatrical, placed them in Kaela's palm. —Clear accounts make for strong friendships— she said.

It was a perfect imitation of the words Kaela had said to her on the first day they worked together, when she paid her share for cleaning the fish. The tone, the cadence, the feigned seriousness... everything was calculated to provoke exactly what it did. Kaela looked at her for a moment, processing. Then a slow, warm smile lit up her face. Both laughed, a low, conspiratorial laugh that didn't want to drift past Elara's door, but desperately needed to be shared.