Chương 52: Betrayal

It was deep into the night when Maitiú approached the edge of the jungle. He would have admitted some trepidation about Cian's warning that the jungle got even more dangerous at night, but he hoped that after he absorbed the Drop of Intent nothing First Ring would be able to offer him any challenge. He should make it to Domhain and Scior in the daylight hours, when things really would get dangerous for him. He slid his bag to the dirt and followed it down into a meditative position.

He had no idea how this would work. Would it take time? He didn't want to be stuck here until after sunrise, when all his former crewmates were likely to come looking. The one thing he could be grateful for was that as soon as he entered the jungle, he was guaranteed to be alone. They couldn't catch him until the next bald spot, but if they valued their chances of getting out of Cianán's Walk they didn't dare. He cupped his hands together, feeling the sharp prick of the end of the teardrop in his hands.

He had never had occasion to use material fórsa before, so he really was just guessing. Reaching out with his fórsa, like he was doing a very delicate lashing, Maitiú touched the pearl with his power. It was like standing under a waterfall with your mouth open. Maitiú choked, doubling over as power flooded through him, reknitting his body from balls to bones. He didn't even have to weave this fórsa - it just took over with the authority of a great King. This vessel was not appropriate to hold fórsa of this quality!

It must be remade to be worthy. Maitiú could only sit frozen in agony as his eyeballs melted and were reformed, as the bones in his wrists broke apart and regrew, as his spine split and wrapped itself back together. When the pain finally stopped Maitiú levered himself back to sitting up straight. He breathed in as deeply as he could. He clenched his hands, flexed his legs. Then, he began to laugh. He laughed until he had trouble sucking in breath. This was like nothing he'd ever felt.

He wasn't sure he'd ever even been alive until today. He scooped up his bag and shot into the forest like lightning. He leapt over any obstacle like it was nothing to jump ten feet into the air. He barreled through tangles of small trees and brambles without a scratch. A voracious bird with hauntingly sharp teeth vanished into the jungle at one swipe from his hand.

"Oh, Maitiú, what have you done?" Cian said, floating beside him, this time in bright yellow clothes.

"What I had to," the sailor grunted, not slowing down.

"I won't apologize for it." Cian was shaking his head sadly, but suddenly his face fell.

"What did you do to Luíseach?"

"That… I am sorry for." Maitiú said, though he still refused to slow his run.

"I didn't mean for it to go like that. And I am sorry I misled her. She's a good lass, and I have done her wrong. But I had to, Cian. This is my only chance of getting out of here." Cian's eyes darkened.

"That was unacceptable Maitiú. I won't have anyone coming in here and abusing my people."

"And I never will again," Maitiú promised.

"I will be out of Cianán's Walk by the day's end." The boy shook his head.

"I wish you luck, if only because I have no wish to see your face again. Know, however, that if you fail to get off the island, Láthair Maol is forever closed to you. You will not be allowed to set foot in it again." Maitiú huffed.

"I have no intention of failing. I don't think I've ever felt power like this before. I can take on anything!" The boy faded, shaking his head. ✧✧✧ Interlude 5 It was harder to find work in Marybel than Miriam thought. All the skills she had valued so highly in Willowcrest, her experience on the sawmill, even her time on the Isabella - none of it counted for much in the civilized city of Marybel. It seemed that manufacturing was done somewhere far outside the city and brought in when needed.

The only exception were factories which dealt in delicates and finery - glassblowing, goldsmiths and the like. None of those were permitted to hire outside the guild system, and Miriam had no connections to introduce her to the guildmasters. For a short time she had managed to get a job as a waitress at a fancy restaurant not too far from the hostel - "Do something to your hair, and for the love of the gods don't wear boots when you come in!"

- but she had quickly found that her demeanor was far too rough for their customer's fine sensibilities. She'd only pocketed three silver for the whole experience. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. Her new friends at the hostel were no better off, each of them seeking some sort of stability and failing to find it. Eve found money by taking odd jobs for an old tinker who liked to look at her while she worked, but it was barely enough to pay the hostel fees.

Daryl was able to get some work in construction, but menial labor only - hauling scraps and detritus away that didn't require Guild membership. The only one who seemed in any way comfortable was Thomas. He was never overflowing with money, but he didn't seem to ever stress when the rent was due. He would disappear for days at a time when his funds ran low, only to reappear again flush with coin.

As far as Miriam could tell he never worked during any other time, spending his days drinking with friends or attending shows in the theater district. Miriam had fallen deeply in love with Thomas. There was a quiet sophistication to him that she had never known in any man back home. In Willowcrest you were a man grown by fifteen and expected to put away things that didn't put food on the table. That left each of the boys she had grown up with all sporting a fragile facade of gruffness she found off-putting.

The tendency for these boys to show off their strength to try to woo the girls of the town only escalated, but this time with their hands around axes and saws. Thomas didn't try to be strong. She thought he was - there was little space in the hostel and no one had escaped having to change in front of the other guests at least once. His muscles were not the bulky stone she was used to seeing among the woodsmen of Willowcrest, but lean and flexible.

His love for the theater was something she didn't understand, but it was another thing that captivated her about him. She had attended a half-price show he'd dragged the entire group to, but as far as she could tell it was just adults play-acting in front of other adults. Didn't they have better things to do with their time? Didn't Thomas? It seemed as if he didn't. It was probably his obsession with something so unnecessary that made him so alluring.

Her life had been all about practicality, about productivity, about survival. He simply pursued the things he loved. That was a freedom she had coveted all her life, but found herself struggling to adapt to. It was when she was on her last silver piece that she convinced Thomas to let her help with whatever it was he was doing when he left the hostel. He led her out of the city - far beyond the neighborhoods she had frequented with her new friends.

They skirted the wealthy Lighthouse District and ran through the seedy Knifepoint Ward. Soon the well-maintained cobblestone started to give way to dirt wagon tracks and farmland - an area of Marybel that reminded Miriam a whole lot like home. After walking for nearly the whole day Thomas led her to the edge of a dense forest. There was a large red sign that said "Authorized Hunters Only by Order of the King."

"We're not supposed to go in there!" Miriam whispered frantically at Thomas as he leapt over one broken slat in the fence.

"No, that sign is outdated. The King died fifteen years ago. There's a Queen now, you know?" He smiled.

"Come on. Perfectly safe, I promise." Miriam trusted that Thomas knew his business - he came back every month with money, so he must know something she didn't. The forest was dark, the trees so tightly packed together that the best they could expect was a warm glow rather than full daytime. Thomas explained that dark would come soon and that they needed to wait until morning. He unrolled a thin tarp and fashioned them both a shelter under a leaning yew tree.

It was the first night they'd been alone together without hostel-mates's prying ears within snooping range, and they made the most of it. The next morning Thomas led her to a large oak dominating a peaceful glade. The tree had a hollow inside and from it he pulled a long object wrapped tight in oilcloth. Unwrapping it revealed an old rifle, weatherworn but seemingly still serviceable. They spent the next three hours stalking deer through the woods.

The deer here behaved very differently than those back in Willowcrest. Contrary to what she would have expected, they seemed more on alert, willing to bolt at the slightest sound. Thomas missed several shots because right as he got close, his prey seemed to sense him and scatter. In her opinion Thomas would have been better off setting traps. Miriam was getting frustrated at this point and asked if she could try. Thomas rolled his eyes a little but relinquished the rifle.

She asked him to stand at least thirty feet behind her - he was far too loud. After only another half hour she found a beautiful buck standing by himself in a meadow, munching on some grass. She pulled the rifle to her shoulder. She could hear Thomas hissing that she wasn't close enough, to give him the rifle. Her bullet went straight through the buck's heart. They processed the deer right there in the meadow and packed the meat in special bags Thomas had brought.

Now that she had succeeded, he was nothing but praise and admiration for her skills. She was very happy to hear that - back home any boy would be furious if she had shown one of them up. Thomas seemed to have a much more healthy ego. They went back to the forest often after that. Eventually Thomas just started letting her go by herself. As much as she enjoyed her time with him, after months living with four people, admittedly charming and friendly ones, she enjoyed time alone.

Just her and the woods, if you overlook the occasional trapper she would run into. They would just nod at each other and go their separate ways. There were still some times when Thomas would receive a message and insist on going alone. He would not talk about these times, though he always came back with way more money than he did for their regular hunts. Miriam decided that if she could have time to herself then so could he. Days back in Marybel were a lot more fun with money.

They split the rewards for her hunt fifty-fifty; her for the kill and him for the sale. Those were among some of the most enjoyable and carefree moments of her life - drinks with artists, late night kisses with Thomas, debates on politics with Eve, footraces with Daryl. Every moment was proof that leaving Willowcrest was the best thing she could have ever done. Until Thomas was arrested for murder.