It was early enough that when they climbed out from the hatch, the blue-tinged morning light was easy on Deventh’s eyes. Through the gate and around the building, the butcher shop door stood propped open with a bucket of salt. It appeared they were the first to enter for the day while the butcher was hard at work, brows taut with unwavering focus as he sawed out a ham. Behind him, the other half of the pig’s carcass spun slowly on a hook. It made Deventh dizzy watching it. His nose, too, fell victim to the onslaught of every spice imaginable, which caused his stomach to turn.

The butcher separated the thigh from the carcass and sliced off a chunk of bone before setting it down. Looking up from his block, he cared little to hide his contemptuous glare. It became clear he had been aware of the group’s presence all along and had no choice left but to acknowledge them.

“You lot from outta town?” He swiped away the sweat from his upper lip with one knuckle, eyeing each of them up and down.

“Yes, that we are.” Anna trotted up to the counter to browse, but there was little stock prepared for the day; some lard and offcuts, a few sacks of jerky, and a ring of smoked sausage links.

“That explains why you’re wandering in here like a bunch of whelps who’ve lost their ma. Shop ain’t open yet.”

The Helbrund cleared her throat into a curled hand. Deventh sensed she wanted him to intervene, but in his dazed condition he was more apt to worsen the situation. He couldn’t risk another blow to the head if he misspoke. Anna appeared to have arrived at the same conclusion; she shook the tension from her arms and pressed on with whatever scrapings of a response she could salvage.

“My apologies for our intrusion, then. The door was open.”

“And what? The smoker’s outside, you expectin’ me to fuss with a door all morning?”

“What a shame,” Ardmy chimed in, “It is often said that a city’s butcher is its measure of prestige. We were set to leave for Pareltolle this morning, but I told my cohorts it would be a great sorrow to leave without some of your smoked bacon. I’ve heard it’s the best in Nelthemar.”

“Haeva’s flat floppin’ tits, you’d put the royal court to shame with that pretentious blithering.” The butcher wiped his hands on his apron where his round belly sloped. “Fine. Long as you’ve got coin, I don’t care how exhausting you are to listen to. Lucky for you, I’ve got a batch about to be ready. Pay up now and wait outside.”

They met at the counter, and when the butcher named his price, Ardmy went pale as chalked parchment. No doubt he’d been given the special price for unwitting tourists. He looked to Deventh for reassurance and received it in the form of a glare that urged him not to haggle. Every drop of favor counted. Ardmy handed over his coins, swallowing hard to cope with the exorbitant loss. Feet dragging, he joined the others to wait outside the shop.

Anna stepped out from beneath the awning and stretched her limbs. Joints popped from her shoulders to her knees as she unleashed a relieved yawn.

“Who knew we had another resident windbag? Thank you, Ardmy. We’ll be sure to compensate you for that ghastly price.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to ask, but that would not go unappreciated. What’s important is he has our money and we have his attention. Hopefully that will be all we need.”

Minutes later, the butcher hobbled out through the doorway. His presence snuffed out an idle conversation about healing techniques that sparked between Anna and Ardmy in the meantime. He walked past them and rounded the corner on the opposite side of the building from where they came. When he returned, he approached Ardmy and handed him a bundle wrapped in oiled parchment and secured with twine. He cradled at least a dozen others in his arms and had a hurried manner about him.

“Thank you.” Ardmy’s words of gratitude fell flat as the ornery man ignored him to return to his shop. He and Anna exchanged glances, Jessa rolled her eyes. None said a word; they were letting him get away.

“There’s been an incident you ought to hear about,” Deventh intervened, stopping the butcher in his tracks just before he stepped through the doorway. “Underground. The doctor’s chamber. We should speak somewhere a bit more private than your shopfront.”

“Only now one of you grows a spine.” The bundles in the butcher’s arms crinkled as he shrugged to adjust them. “Knew somethin’ was up when I caught that lad sneakin’ about. Gonna put the merchandise down. Meet me ‘round back. You know where, seein’ as you came from there.” On his way in, he nudged the salt bucket with his foot to let the door swing shut behind him.

Deventh and the others waited in the fenced area for a spell until the butcher, looking a touch less irritable, joined them. He stood in the open gateway, leaving an opening for himself to escape, and faced them with his arms crossed over his chest. A knife hung from a loop in his apron. It was not there before.

“Talk.”

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Deventh nodded, holding his forehead while he gathered his thoughts. It felt as though they’d spill out if he didn’t. Rubbing his brow before he began, he told of the rampage, the doctor’s fate, and the state in which the others had found him. He thought it best to omit the detail where the boy was after him in particular. A few nostril flares and eye bulges throughout his retelling signaled that the butcher was more than familiar with the child. There was a short silence, but he seemed to believe Deventh’s story.

“Always knew there was somethin’ wrong with that lad.” He shook his head. “Regular customer o’ mine, ran errands for the doctor. Got a soft spot for the infirm, I have, so I helped out any way I could. But the boy was always mutterin’ to himself. Rattled me a mite.”

“Did you happen to see him last night? Early this morning?”

“No. Thought I may have heard some thumpin’ around, but I’ve been havin’ dreams lately and put it down to that. Wasn’t ‘til I woke up an’ found a note that I realized he made off with three sacks of dried beef.”

Perhaps that was the reason for the steep price on Ardmy’s purchase, as well as his sour mood, but Deventh thought better of calling it out. It took all the focus he could muster not to lose his place in the conversation; he hoped Anna and Ardmy were absorbing the details. He was fading fast and there was no telling how much he’d remember later.

“Do you still have that note?”

“I do.” He produced the note from a pocket on his apron and handed it over. Deventh squinted to focus on the words, but they slipped away, blurring and sliding over each other every time his eyes centered on them. Anna leaned forward with her fingers laced together to read over his shoulder.

“I am sorry, good butcher. I must leave on a long errand and I cannot spare any coin. I solemnly apologize and promise I will never wrong you as such again. Sincerely, Rhov… What’s this crossed out here?” She took the note from Deventh’s hands and held it close to her face to decipher the scrawl. “Demons. False gods. I must go to Utel.”

Utel. The name echoed through Deventh’s head, expanding in his skull until the pressure left him immobilized. Blinding stars flashed and swirled in his vision, the calls of ravens muffled in his ringing ears. In his moment of lost control, withdrawn from his surroundings, he didn’t realize he’d spoken the thought aloud.

“Aye,” said the butcher. “There’s always some lunatic babbling about one ancient site or another in big cities like this. Makes people sick in the mind, it does. Can’t help feelin’ sorry for the lad, in a strange way.”

“He killed a man.” Anna resisted a reflex to clench her fist and crumple the note. “Nearly two. And he caused the passing of another to go unguided. Perhaps that is not his nature in lucidity, but some instinct in me, however base it feels, makes it difficult for me to find sorrow. I worry only for the bodies left behind. How will they be handled?”

“Didn’t mean to hit a nerve.” The butcher threaded his thumbs through his apron loops. “Listen, I know what you’re jabbin’ at. In any normal town, it wouldn’t look good on you to report this, aye? Best to ask the man whose business is the lifeblood of the people, right?”

“That… was our thought, I suppose.”

“Well, unfortunately for me, you were damned right about that. I’m not keen on moving the carcasses of anything other than animals, and equally I’m not keen to play host to two rotting bodies in my shop basement. Neither’s good for business. Those birds have probably already seen enough to start piecing things together, but they can’t act unless I say somethin’. My privacy protections have been more of a curse than a privilege in two hands’ worth of ways so far, but this seals it. So if you’re fussed about them being taken care of, then it’s good you’ve left me with no choice by telling me about it.”

A swath of ravens flew overhead in a peculiar formation of three perfect parallel lines. One bird at the lead of its line turned its gaze down at them but did not descend.

“Does that mean they’ve seen the murder? The theft? And they just… Won’t do anything unless you say so?” The abhorrence of the thought brought a sneer to Anna’s face.

“The theft, maybe they saw that. The murder, no. They’ve been wise to the harborage for decades, and they could even dispel the wards on the door and lead a raid if it suits me – or Lord DeBastard’s agenda, of course. But thankfully, they haven’t got eyes that can pierce the ground yet. Whatever they’ve seen or haven’t, the thing that’s certain is they can catch whiffs of shite and follow them to its maker. Anything that looks odd, they chase it. A sickly halfthrin boy like Rhov, muttering and stumblin’ about in a hurry, even strangers like yourselves comin’ into the city, they know where you came from and where you’re staying. Or hiding. You heard me right, though. They won’t take action unless I ask.”

“And when they find Rhov, would we be able to speak with him?” asked Deventh.

“Perhaps, if they find him. He seems smart enough to hide somewhere out of town – maybe not Utel, but not here. In either case, I can tell you’re fucked up halfway to Dronthod, and it can’t feel too good to be bested by a crippled boy, so I’ll give you my advice. Leave him be and count your life as a consolation prize. The rest will be handled.”

Deventh gritted his teeth so hard his eye sockets ached. His motive in asking did come off as pathetic without the one detail he couldn’t spare. It was already becoming harder to think, and he felt an invisible wall rising from the ground to encircle him. He'd reached his limit. Anna gave him a worried glance and tried to expedite the conversation’s end.

“Is there anything we can do for your trouble?” she asked.

“Why, when your friend’s already paid for it?” The butcher smirked, and Ardmy’s face flushed. “If you really wanna help, let me open shop for the day, head on to Pareltolle as you were doin’. And if you find yourself in Ravengarde needin’ to have a near-death experience again, try the baker’s shop instead.”

“Will do.” Anna’s voice doubled. So did her body, and so did everything else. Deventh’s knees buckled. He failed to catch himself and fell forward onto Anna’s outstretched arm. Ardmy helped him upright and acted as a crutch on one side. Anna did the same on the other using only her hooked arm. Both were saying something and carrying him somewhere, but the world was reduced to globules of intermixing colors, and their voices to whispers across a ravine.