Rhian

We were off to a terrible start, but we were on a roll as far as leveling old, important buildings went. What, with the schoolhouse-slash-tavern burning down, and the church falling over, and the time we set fire to Alexander’s home in Istok. I considered trying my hand at the Widow’s Peak, but then I remembered I liked Ivana, and that Strauss already tried when he summoned a tornado inside. After that, I thought about that one time in Delphia. Our destruction knew no bounds, and I’d been trying not to think about Strauss.

The memories weren’t helping.

We got to Oskari just before dawn, and we checked the hill for traces of the others. It hadn’t snowed since the last time it snowed, so it didn’t take a master-tracker to sort out what to look for first.

Adeline’s footprints were obvious. Those dainty feet and the high-bloody-heels. There was a set of larger prints beside hers, but they were too small and too pointy to belong to Strauss. Reckoned they were Vinny’s fancy shoes.

We followed their tracks to the main road.

There were only two directions out of Oskari: the way to the Drop, and the way to Jaska.

A few weeks afore, the villagers managed to get their hands on a couple of new wagons and some horses. Thanks to Strauss for donating around a million notes to the village, and thanks to Alexander for donating around a million notes to Strauss. All I’m trying to say is it seemed Adeline and Vinny hitched a ride toward Jaska.

“I’ll have my contacts look into it," Alexander said.

“The lass doesn’t know her front bits from her arse outside Palisade, but she’s bright. And Delestade, well—I’m surprised he’s sticking around. Then again, he still owes us our favours.”

Alexander stared down the road toward Jaska. “Which favours?”

I also stared down the road toward Jaska. “A while back, we helped him out of a situation and he promised us each a favour. See something?”

Alexander shook his head. “I thought I did,” he said, and then he agreed to explore the ruins of the church for signs of Strauss.

Meanwhile, I hitched a ride with Peter. He smiled when he saw me, and didn’t seem to mind when I tossed him a two-finger salute, but didn’t smile back. What a guy.

Rather than climb in the cabin, I sat up front.

Destination: The Murder House.

I wasn’t sure what to expect from the people in Oskari, but I reckoned they still hated us. Lucky for me, most folks were still tucked away while we drove through the village, but one of the early-risers ran inside when he saw me. They didn’t trust us, and who could blame them? As far as the eye could see, I’d extorted someone right before Strauss murdered someone, and then we all blew up the church. Repairs like those take time.

I rolled my eyes when a lady dashed inside and slammed the door.

Adeline had already taken the most important things from the workshop, so I packed whatever was left up into the wagon—bits and bobs from her workstation and a pair of goggles. After I’d finished packing, I took one last look around The Murder House. Which, in case you’d forgotten, was Alexander’s childhood home. I stepped into his old bedroom, where there was no lantern by the bed. I stood in front of the window where there were no butter-yellow drapes, and I looked out over the giant oak where Lidia Ruza used to go, where baby Victoria was conceived, where Michael and I once sat, where Strauss and the Crazy Bitch once sat.

I still think about her sometimes, apart from when I’m telling this story.

After finishing up at the workshop, Peter drove me to The House.

It was eerie stepping inside to silence, but I didn’t have the desire to stop and think about it. I found an empty box in the kitchen and gave it a sniff. It smelled like old potatoes, but it would do. The only thing worth saving from the main floor was the jar of tea Michael and Strauss liked so much.

I made my way upstairs.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

The room I shared with Adeline was my first stop. I opened the nightstand drawer and collected my belongings. Namely, The Murder Book. I’d eventually add a sketch of Lidia Ruza, right after the face with the tongue and the x’s for eyes.

Crazy, but she had a helluva sense of humour.

There were a few more things I left behind in case I died: the flask engraved with the letters “RS” which I finally realized stood for Rhydian Sinclair. The lighter Strauss gave me for my birthday. The watch-slash-compass Adeline gave me for saving her arse. And the mysterious note Gus read in a mYsTeRiOuS vOiCe—the one Alexander slipped under my door the first night in Oskari.

I stuffed everything into my satchel.

Michael and That Varis’s room was next, and it smelled funkier than the box I loaded up with their stuff. I wasn’t sure what to do with any of her whatnots—including the short swords already packed into the wagon. It wasn’t my place. Once we had Michael back, it’d be his place.

When I opened their nightstand, I found a book full of flowery writing I knew wasn’t Michael’s. I’d have Alexander read That Varis’s journal to me later, but as a matter of filling in a few blanks, I’ll summarize for you now:

That Varis wanted friends, but didn’t know how not to be shitty. Lidia Ruza also wanted friends, and also didn’t know how not to be shitty. While we were in Istok, they bonded over being shitty, and then Lidia did The Thing. It all happened afore we had a chance to do anything about it, but I’m not sure if it would have gone much differently, anyhow. I’d known That Varis for a while, and she wasn’t ever pleasant.

Look, nobody socialized us properly, or taught us how to deal with our feelings. Some did like me and drank. Some did like Michael and pretended everything was a-okay. Some did like That Varis and acted like an arseface.

People be people.

I tossed the journal into the box.

After bringing Michael a blanket so he wouldn't freeze to goddess-be-damned death in the wagon, I carried their armour downstairs two pieces at a time, and I climbed the stairs one step at a time. Seeing as I was perfectly capable of carrying more than two pieces of armour at a time, and seeing as I preferred climbing the stairs two steps at a time, I’m trying to illustrate that I was stalling.

I entered the final room in The House.

The only evidence of my old pal Bells was the crumpled up blanket and the pillow on the floor in the corner. Other than that, the room he shared with Strauss was the cleanest room in The House. No dust, no dirt, and the floor was shiny from a fresh polish. It broke my heart.

The space smelled like old paper and cinnamon—cinnamon I reckon Strauss got from the lair where he first met my father. It sure as shite wasn’t growing willy-nilly in Oskari.

I followed my nose to the table beneath the window and opened the skinny drawer at the front.

A pouch full of cinnamon.

There wasn’t a whole lot else to collect. A few pairs of long underwear—the ones Michael gave him before he left. The outfits we bought in Delphia. His and hers, and the hat included. Some other random pair of pants and a tunic I’d never seen afore. The journal from his pilgrimage, and the Vonsinfonie book.

The satchel I bought Gus for his birthday sat sad and saggy-looking on the chair. I tucked everything inside and swung it around my shoulder. I was about to leave, but then I remembered I was forgetting something.

I turned around, snatched up Strauss’s pillow, stomped out, and slammed the door behind me.

----------------------------------------

Alexander waited outside, leaning against the wagon until he saw me. He hadn’t found anything helpful at the church, and nobody at the Widow's Peak knew anything either.

“When you found your lover’s blood, did you notice anything else?” he asked.

"Considering how much blood there was, it struck me funny that there weren't any tracks. Lidia said he was bleeding out on the floor where she left him, but even if he made it out on his own, why wouldn't he go back to The House or somewhere else sensible? He's a sensible fellow. So, I reckon he was taken. I'm just not sure by who. There's even the possibility it was Vinny and Adeline. Does Jaska have a hospital? Also, I thought we had an understanding about the lover thing.”

“Jaska has a hospital, and 'lover' stands until you come up with something better for us to call him.”

“You could call him Andrei,” I said.

“I could,” he replied. “But why don’t you?”

Michael was still knocked out cold when I hopped into the wagon beside him. “It’s a thing we do.”

“A thing you do to deny your intimacy?” Alexander boarded the wagon on the other side. “You don’t do that with your other friends, but your relationships with them are permitted, whereas your relationship with the half-breed is not. You’ve created a rule which denies your intimacy.”

“If we were denying our intimacy, I’d be enjoying a barrel of whisky right now instead of sitting here with too-tight pants, a craving for carrots, and a pull in my lower back.”

Alexander laughed.

“Besides,” I said. “You’re only half right. It might have started that way, but we created the rule together, didn't we? It's become our way of acknowledging our intimacy, if you really must bloody know.”

Alexander nodded, gazing out the window and whatnot.

“We’ll find him,” he said.

It was nice of him to say, but I wasn’t so sure.

Gus, Strauss, Adeline, Vinny, and poor, poor Michael—one way or another, they were all missing, and if I was going to find them, I needed a nap first.

So, seeing as I couldn’t drink the pain away, I snuggled up with Strauss’s pillow and slept the pain away.