The icicles beneath the eaves of the wagon glittered like fangs in the moonlight.

Though there had been warnings that winter was fast approaching, the harsh speed with which it arrived still took the whole town of Marash by surprise.

It was the final day of November. Esmi had come home from the Red Bear late at night and seen tiny flakes falling from the sky, but they were even lighter than the October ones. She held her tongue out and let one land, tasting it, wondering if perhaps this would be an unexpectedly warm winter. That night she had gone to sleep swaddled in furs, feeling warm and cozy.

Now she woke up to her face bristling in the cold. She licked her lips, wondering just what had happened while she slept to turn things around so quickly. Through the window of the wagon she could already see snow carpeting the surrounding camp. But it was only when she opened the door and saw that the snow had piled up to the threshold that she shuddered. “Gods in heaven!” said Esmi under her breath.

Idly, she wondered where her father was, hoping he safe and sound. If Razlan decided to pass out in this weather, then—

No, better not think of that.

She got dressed in the thickest clothes she had and belted the trousers around her waist. The ones she had worn as a kid were too small at this point, so she relied on her Sandra’s old clothing, which was still big and too loose. It made her sad at first to use her mother’s belongings, but when times were this desperate feelings no matter played into it.

Esmi took care as she went down the steps of the wagon not to break her neck, since the frost that build along the polished wood had made her fall on her butt more than once in previous years.

There was not a soul out. Up above her, thick grey clouds moved swiftly in the gloomy morning. Standing there in the snow that reached past her knees, Esmi felt completely alone in the world for a few moments. Cold, she thought, as the icy chill of the snow seeped through her inexpensive shoes.

Her legs carried her quickly to town, crossing paths with no one along the way. Even the guards were absent from their usual station by the entrance, which gave the gates an eerie look. Esmi began to get a nightmarish idea that the whole city had been attacked overnight, perhaps by the same vampire that did those horrible things to her mother, but upon entering she could see a few lone figures moving here and there.

Once she arrived at the Red Bear, Orlon along with his father and the guards were already hard at work shoveling the snow. Esmi greeted them and got their numbed good morning greetings in turn, then headed in and got by the kitchen fire to warm up next to Martin. “God, do I hate the cold,” he said. “Bad enough that there aren’t clients, but then you have to spend all this money on firewood.”

Esmi rubbed her hands and glanced at him. “Does it all come back to money?”

“Of course. What else? Speaking of money, what have you heard about that boss of yours, eh? Manu?”

Esmi frowned thoughtfully. “He’s not my boss.”

“Even so.”

Truth be told, she herself wasn’t sure what was going on. Ever since that mage had come by, Manu had largely disappeared. Every so often he could be spotted coming and going in the dead of night; but he was gone mostly, and there were people from town and elsewhere that came around looking for him and asking questions. “I don’t know anything,” she said. A part of her felt slightly guilty. Perhaps she had added to his misfortune somehow by interacting with that mage. Admittedly, she hadn’t done much, but—

“He’s going to end up dead,” said Martin; there wasn’t much concern in his tone. “He owes a lot to individuals you don’t want to be indebted to. Plus, he’s a gypsy, so they’re really going to make an example out of him.”

Some of the worst stories passed around camp came back to her now. Kids that had tried to steal having their heads dipped into boiling water. Thieves getting both hands chopped off for stealing and getting their tongues cut out in advance to make sure they couldn’t beg.

What they would do to Manu, Esmi couldn’t say, but it didn’t sound good. “How much money do you think he owes?”

“A lot, probably,” said Martin. “Your boy has been throwing his weight around town for ages now, saying he’s going to do this and that. He’s got a tempting tongue, but I thought twice before going into business with a man like that. Seems I was correct.”

As the day of work started, Esmi found it difficult to think of anything besides Manu. Were they really going to kill him? He was the cornerstone of the entire clan. Besides, he had helped her and Razlan out so many times…

I wish I could help him. But she was just a kid.

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Her mood had become sour enough that even Orlon noticed it. “Are you alright?” he asked as they polished the staircase railing.

“I’m fine.”

“You can tell me anything that’s wrong.”

“I know.”

As the day wore on, Esmi thought about her father as well, and how useless he was. If Razlan were dependable, maybe Manu could’ve gone to him for help. Instead, her father was just a drag on everybody. She still didn’t even know if he was alive or not after last night’s weather. Not only had the snow not melted outside, but it kept piling up and drifts formed around the paths. Winter was here to stay.

Her mood worsened by the time night fell, and she was in no state of mind to deal with the complaining whores upstairs. Their demands, as always, were tiresome; worse was Ottillie, who had fallen sick and could not even serve her customers. When Esmi came in with some hot tea, she could barely move.

“Fank you,” she said weakly in her accent.

Ottillie sat up to get out of bed and threw aside her covers. It was at that point that Esmi realized the redhead wasn’t wearing her usual rich dresses and that the prized brooch her eyes always gravitated to was no longer pinned over the whore’s heart. Where is it? Esmi wondered, glancing surreptitiously around the room.

Ottillie went to the table and raised the tea with her slightly trembling hands. “Hot, hot, hot!” she cried, blowing on it gently.

It could have been under the bed, but she had no business reaching there. Or perhaps in one of the chests? Where is it?

“Gypsie. Can you go Martin? Say I need to sleeping. He will give you for me.”

Sleep? That sounded like a good idea…

Esmi left the room and rushed back down. She found Martin standing by one of the tables, talking to some clients, and reached up to whisper into his ear. He clicked his tongue as soon as he heard what she wanted. Reaching into his pocket, he took out a small enameled box. “Put some of this powder in her drink. But no more than the tip of a spoon. Otherwise she might never wake up again.”

Never wake up again sounded serious, and for all the bad interactions between them, Esmi had no desire to actually kill the woman. With her hot blood rushing with excitement and her heart beating full of intent, she returned to the room upstairs.

Ottillie had a pale arm resting over her eyes. “You have?”

“Yes,” said Esmi. “Wait a moment.”

There was only about half a cup of tea left. The box of powder was nearly full, and Ottillie never once glanced over to look as Esmi scooped up half a spoon of the fine, sugar-looking powder and dropped it into the tea. She mixed it carefully, then carried it over to Ottillie.

The redhead gasped unhappily, then raised herself. “Need sleep…”

Esmi watched nervously as she drank and made a face. “It tastes bad?”

Ottillie grimaced and nodded, but she drank it all, then dropped back down onto her pillow once Esmi took away the cup. “I sleep.”

“Okay,” said Esmi happily. She placed down the empty cup, left the room with an apprehensive feeling, and went back down to hand what was left to Martin.

“Keep an eye on her,” he said. “Tell me if she gets worse. Hopefully it’s nothing serious.”

She was a little too eager to see her plan succeed, and when she had first gone to check in, Ottillie was still awake and a muffled scream of “Gaway!” soon followed.

Trying to busy herself with work, Esmi headed down to help Orlon, who was taking the scales off a fish for his father. “You look happy,” he said with a knowing look. “Got a nice tip?”

“Nope. Just having a nice night. It’s cozy.”

“It’s cold out. Shame for all those people stuck out there.” He sighed. “Well, what can you do.”

Glancing past him through the window at the snowy yard outside and the towering mounds of white death that had accumulated, she wondered where her father was and how he was doing. Hopefully, he was just fine. It’s not my job to watch him, she thought. I don’t get paid for that.

After two hours of torturous waiting, she lost Orlon and went back up to check on Ottillie. This time, there was no sound as she entered, and the candle on the table had burned out. Esmi entered and shut the door as quietly as she could. Padding around the room, she checked everywhere she could think of to find that stupid brooch.

It wasn’t in any of the chests, wasn’t hidden away in any of the pockets of her clothes or placed in a hollowed out book. As the moonlight caressed her brown cheeks, Esmi rubbed at her runny nose and glanced at the snowed-in streets outside. Was it a bad idea to do this? Was this wrong? Maybe she doesn’t even have it anymore, she told herself. Maybe that’s why she feels sick—it’s gone.

But what if it wasn’t? Surely, Ottillie had not been nice enough to her to deserve any special treatment. If anything, she deserved the opposite for being such a bitch. And what if she did die? What if she was deathly sick? Anyone else could take it then…

Esmi resolved to at least make sure it was there, even if she didn’t end up taking it tonight.

With no other place left to look, she bit her lip and reached towards the bed. She gently rolled Ottillie to the side, hoping not to wake her, and checked under the pillow…

And there it was. The brooch.

That easy? wondered Esmi, feeling stupid not to have checked there from the beginning.

It had been dazzling before, too, but it was even more attractive now in the low light, gleaming with an otherworldly quality. How much would that be worth? Fifty leras? More? Maybe even two alastri? If it were truly magical, then it might be worth a lot, but she had a feeling Ottillie was lying about that part.

“Ottillie,” she said again, and shook the redhead to make sure she was asleep.

There was no response; only a soft, wheezing breath.

Gulping, Esmi reached out and put her hand on the brooch. It was cold to the touch, but so sleek and glossy.

Telling herself she would only take a closer look, Esmi brought it up in her palm and examined it by the window. There was no strange light emanating from its contour, no sound echoing from within, nor did Esmi feel any potent magic going through her body and placing a curse on her as a result of taking it. It doesn’t do a damn thing, she concluded matter-of-factly.

But it sure was beautiful, with its golden body and the bright green gemstone at the center. Certainly much more expensive than the humble sunburst stickpin with the opal Esmi had been gifted by Rika.

She stood there holding it for a few minutes, pondering her course of action.

Manu could use this, she thought. Who knows how much it might be worth…

Ottillie certainly had no need of it. She could just get another with all that coin she made…

At length, Esmi slipped it into her pocket, and casually left the room.