A cut-glass necklace span through the air and clinked onto the cobbles. Maggie caught herself just before she hit the floor, palm smarting as it struck the ground. She stumbled forward, catching her foot on the man's arm. She righted herself, squinting down the street. It lurched and spun into brief focus, then out again. Blinking to clear her eyes, she tried to peer forward. Her head was spinning, her ears were ringing. The whole street tipped sideways and the cobbles rushed up toward her face. Then night seemed to fall all of a sudden, the floor twinkled with stars, and unconsciousness took her.
She woke to the sound of a shop bell ringing, sparkles still in her eyes, and the reddish light of a sunset. As her head turned to the right she could see the man turning over, waking from his daze. Adrenaline pumped into her body, instinct brought her to her knees, ignoring the pain as they scraped on the cobbles. Unsteady, she rose. She took another step. Another. One more. With an effort, she moved one foot after the other, heading forward. A momentary pause and an emptying of the stomach as she leant on the rough brick wall. She hobbled on, tasting blood and bile. Ahead the sounds of the city were becoming clearer again. Rattling carriages, loud hawkers, busy feet. The sound of steps, getting closer. Behind her perhaps. Her joints ached as she forced them into quicker motion, willing them on. The familiar red light of the Templeton evening sky was a beacon between the two darker red walls of the alley, stained by dirt and ash. Try as she might, her progress was no faster. The uneven gait of a pair of shoes on cobbles rapped out, panicking her further. Her entire body protested, pains and limpness popping up in a new place every few seconds. But she wasn’t going to stop. Round a bend, toward the main street. A pulling on her dress slowed her down to a crawl, then a standstill, and Maggie turned back, not having the energy to fight.
She was met with nothing immediate, her dress continuing to be pulled. She looked down for the source, and found a small child, with ragged clothes and dirty palms, beggar written all over him. Behind them, clutching his side, her pursuer, an uneven gait, slowly gaining, a cruel smile on his face. She had to move.
“Not today, sorry.” She pushed the child away, and they stumbled back toward her pursuer. The pain in her head was momentarily exchanged for a sick feeling in her stomach. She stepped out from the mouth of the alley, squinted against the sun, trying to pretend she didn’t hear the meaty whack of the cane strike behind her, and the thump of a child hitting the floor. She headed straight across the road, dodging carriages, a tear falling down her cheek. Clearly the man following after her would stop at nothing. A merciless killer, who’d likely do worse to her. She still couldn’t shake the guilt as she heading into the crowds of people crossing the square in every direction. She tried to lose herself in them, forget who she was, and just be another citizen. She couldn’t afford to look back, it’d make her easier to spot. And she would likely walk into someone, lose her balance, trip and draw attention. She narrowly missed someone, a blur of motion. People were already staring. What would he not expect? Maggie wracked her brains. Before she came up with anything she might call a good idea, her ankle started to tremble. She was still on high alert, adrenaline coursing through her veins, heart pumping hard. But the pain was winning through.
The pain forced her hand. She made the best of what she could, and made it to the Lost Sailor memorial fountain in the middle of the square. Most statues in Templeton were carved in exquisite detail from stone, or were shaped and burnished in bronze. This was probably the only one made of something as impermanent as wood. Maggie looked at it properly for the first time. Usually, on the occasions she stepped into Old Templeton, she wore her best clothes to blend in, and walked with purpose, she had no time for memorials. One of the numerous boats in the fountain at the centre seemed to be new, the wood was practically shining. It floated with all the others, chained to a great anchor in the centre, water pouring out the top like a geyser, and crashing back down amongst the model boats of varying size and design. The boats were rocked back and forth, battered by the falling water like they were weathering a storm. The pool never stayed calm or flat for a second. The ground around it rose up, cut into stairs like an amphitheatre, so the water lapped over the lowest steps. The occasional child might have played in the water, if this weren’t near the centre of Old Templeton, surrounded by the shadows of the Chantry Cathedrals, the Headquarters of the City Watch, the various law offices. More pertinently, several people did sit on the steps, some gazing at the fountain, some resting a moment, others talking.
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Maggie chose a spot beside a bulky dark-skinned sailor, judging by the tattooes, his bald head and muscled arms at least. Not that she had the luxury of being able to walk much further anyway. Her hand on the step left a bloody smear. She gingerly turned her foot, pulling up her dress slightly. It was stiff, and she could feel it swelling. She toyed with the idea of removing her heeled shoes, and risking the stoney street in exchange for being able to move her ankle freely. Women’s fashion could be cruel sometimes. And not ideal for getting into fights. Habitually, she pulled out a hand mirror to check her face. Cracked, a thin line ran straight down the centre. She cursed to herself-mirrors were expensive, but essential to her work. She cursed again as she focused on her face, and drew a breath through her teeth. Black eye, split lip, trickle of blood coming from temple and ear, explaining the ringing. Earring missing too. With a wince she wiped away at some her ear, handkerchief coming back bright red and sticky.
“Ma'am, you alright there? You’re bleeding!” the sailor exclaimed, noticing her for the first time. He spoke with an accent that was notably not from Templeton.
“I’m fine sir, don’t mind me.” Maggie tried to brush it off, silence and blending in were her best bets.
“That's a real nasty one ma'am. Some fellow looks to have struck you for sure.” The sailor was facing her now, a frown on his face as he tried to get a better look. He seemed genuinely concerned, reaching forward with a large hand.
Maggie, well versed with men's wandering hands, caught his in her own. “No need, really darling. It’s done now, and it looks worse than it is.” She was getting nervous now, she couldn’t afford a scene. The sailor gazed into her eyes, deep brown pools, thoughtful and insightful.
“Of course ma’am.” He nodded his head respectfully, acquiescing to her wishes. For a moment he continued to look, then turned away to face the fountain. “But I can’t well not offer.”
“It’s very sweet of you. But really, I don’t want to be trouble.” Maggie breathed a sigh of relief.
“No trouble maam.” Another pause. “He’s close by ain’t he? The man?”
Maggie was taken aback by the sailor's matter-of-fact statement. “I...really wouldn’t advise further pursuing that line of questioning. It won’t do either of us any good.” She rubbed off the worst of the blood and went to stand. She wobbled briefly, and failed. Frustrated, she ripped off her heeled shoes, gritted her teeth and tried again. This time the sailor caught her by the arm and steadied her, rising as she did. “Thank you for the kindness stranger,” she scanned around, trying to catch sight of her pursuer, “but I really must be going.” Her head swam and the fountain tipped to one side, the sailor’s bulking form loomed over her.
“Ma’am, you can barely stand, please, slow down. We’ll find someone to help.” His strong arms held her lightly on her feet.
“No…” She feebly attempted to push him away.
“You aren’t well ma’am. Sorry to impose, but I you need help.”
“No time, better to head back. Please. Over Temple Bridge, take me home.” It was all she could muster.
“Yes ma’am. Temple Bridge it is. Ummm, kindly could you direct, only just arrived in town.”
She pointed, and grunted assent and encouragement as he half carried her through the crowd. As she slipped the cracked mirror and bloodied handkerchief away, she realised she had nothing else in her pockets. She hadn’t even managed to hold onto the necklace!
Maggie and the sailor weaved their way through the gleaming streets of Old Templeton, a mismatched couple dancing strange steps. The lamps were being lit, long shadows cast, though the buildings still stood bright and tall, some of them lit from within. Maggie was turning a little pale, but she could hear the sounds of the river getting closer. She was slightly more relaxed when they took their first steps onto Temple Bridge, though catching sight of the moving water made her head spin again. In an alley, already forgotten, a child died, lying beside a gold necklace, the crimson glass catching the last of the sun’s light.