Davery

I woke up with a yawn and an aching back. The cellar had chilled overnight and I pulled my exposed shoulder back under my blanket as I sat on a chair. It had probably rained, as it tended to do in the witching hours of the Midlands, and it dampened the clay city to its bones. 

My right hand was stiff when I tried to move it. I tried stretching the muscles in it while I sat up and grimace. It was going to be one of those days where it ached. 

Sighing, I looked around the dimly lit room. I had spent the night on a chair while Sly dragged her mattress into the storage part of the cellar, and the blond stranger took my own bed. Bricker, he said his name was, and he was a refugee from the north.

"You're awake." I looked up as Sly moved silently into the room, taking the other seat at the table and avoiding stepping on Bricker's mattress. 

I stretched, glancing at the empty bowls on the table from the stew we had last night. My stomach growled and I sighed. Breakfast would have to come later, though we drained most of our coin yesterday between freeing Marak and what I'd send Sly with to pay the Bliss house their fee later today.

"So who is he?" Sly asked, looking down at the floor of our room.

"His name is Bricker. He's from Linmead, a message runner. He was out on a job when the war front turned towards his home town." I shrugged. "Or at least, that's his story."

"Oh. Then he came to Unays to get away from it?" she asked.

I scratched the back of my neck and looked over to meet her green eyes.

"That's the rough part of it. His parents were... in the town when the battle started. They didn't survive the initial rush from Nummelin. The house was burned, their sheep taken or slaughtered. He doesn't have anything to go back to. Supposedly his aunt lives here, but he's never met her. He came to deliver the news in person and I guess try to find a way to make a new start here."

She watched the rise and fall of Bricker's sleeping form with soft eyes. Gods, did she know how much like Mother she looked? Other than her mass of brown hair barely contained in a braid, she could have been our mother's twin. But then with a glance that our mother had never worn in her life, Sly shot me a glare that could melt ice.

"Is he a threat to us? Does he know what we are? What we do?" She asked. "We brought him home, Davery. This could have been a mistake."

"You're the one that jumped into the square after him!" I hissed, rolling my eyes. "What else were we going to do with him, dump him in the alley and wish him the best?"

Sly frowned, still glaring and waiting on my answer.

I sighed. "Look, I don't think he's any kind of threat. He hasn't found his aunt yet either, I was hoping to help him with that today, actually."

"What clues does he have?" she asked.

"Myra, last name had been Blackwood but she may have married. Comes from a family of weavers, but what she does now is unknown. All he does know is that his mother used to receive letters from her written by the clerks on Willow street."

"So she probably lives in Swamp or Dock district," Sly thought out loud. "That's a tall order, finding her. Do you want me to try?"

"No, I want Jexa on it, since he knows the Docks so well. He might have an idea of how to go about finding her." I yawned, deliberately drawing it out until Sly swatted my arm in annoyance. 

I chuckled at her expression. Glancing down at the ground I wondered if Bricker was sleeping through all this conversation, or if he was actually listening in. 

"So what do you want me to do?" she asked.

"I want you to help Graham gather wood," I said. "And before you argue with me let me remind you how important it is that we store for winter. You know what they say, when the summer runs hot, the winter will not. So I need you to help him."

Her frown turned into a small pout, her brows knit together in displeasure. "This is a punishment for jumping in yesterday."

"Oh, yes," I confirmed, swiping my finger through the remnants of one of the stew bowls and popping it into my mouth. "This is absolutely a punishment. Ugh. This stew is terrible cold."

"I'm not going to regret doing it," she grumbled and stood up, making her way to the door.

"Get a tunic that isn't stained in blood!" I called after her. 

She didn't bother letting the cellar door down quietly as she left without another word.

I sighed, staring at the now empty doorway she had just left through. Such a stubborn girl. I wanted to help the city too, but if we keep stopping for every single person we could help then all we would manage to do is to exhaust ourselves and drain our coins. Then we'd be of no use to anyone. 

"You vex her on purpose, don't you?" Bricker sat up carefully and grunted.

"So you are awake. I know I vex her, I can't resist it actually. I suppose it's a brother's job," I said.

"So that's it. I was wondering what was between you that warranted such bickering." Bricker started to yawn, but winced and grabbed his ribs.

"So, will you tell me what you said to the guard to make you such a target?" I asked.

His expression instantly turned to a frown.

"He called me a mud maggot. I didn't know what it meant, but I doubted it was good," Bricker said. "I didn't know your city guards wore white, ours wear blue. Anyway, I figured if he could call me names I could tell him where to shove that pig sticker on his belt."

"You what?" I smiled. "As much as I appreciate that comment, I think I can see what happened."

"Well, I guess you were right about my mouth." Bricker laid back on the mattress and stared at the ceiling. "Thank you, for everything."

"I have a friend who can help you, he knows the area and who to talk to about finding people. He should be here soon. In the meantime, I do want to ask you to keep what you know of us and this location a secret. We're not exactly on any friendlier terms with the local authorities than you are."

Bricker looked up at me from his spot on the ground. 

"Well, your sister did save my hide. Not that anyone would've missed it." He looked back down at his bandaged torso. "I know when to shut my trap. I'm a message runner after all. That sort of stuff gets you killed."

A loud creak told me the cellar door was opening. Heavy footsteps came down the stairs and thumped across the dirt floor.

The blond boy's eyes widened as Jexa came into the room, and I grinned.

"Who's the lad?" Jexa stepped through the curtain, taking up more than a fair share of the doorway. Bricker swallowed hard at the mountain of scars and muscles looming over him.

"Ah, Bricker this is a friend of mine," I said. "I hope you can leash your tongue for the morning because the two of you are going to need to work together."

"Good gods above," Bricker said, sitting up faster than was probably comfortable for his wounds. 

Jexa shot me a puzzled look. "What exactly is going on here? You said you picked up a lad who needs some help, but he looks half dead."

I turned to give Jexa my full attention. "Did you hear about the guard in the square yesterday?"

"The one that got killed? Sure." Jexa's eyes widened. "Wait a minute, that was you?"

"It was my pig-headed sister," I clarified. "And we got this one out of the mess."

I jerked a thumb to Bricker.

Jexa whistled. "I've already heard through the dock that the mongrels are looking hard at what happened. With the one dead guard, there are no witnesses willing to speak up. The whole district is speculating what's going to happen next."

"I'll bet they are," I muttered. "Any whispers among the lower folk that you've heard?"

Jexa shrugged. "I'm thinking Swamp has your back. You flashed your tattoo, didn't you?"

"Yeah," I said. "Kept a hood on though."

Bricker sat up a little straighter. "Tattoo?"

I exchanged a look with Jexa. He rubbed one of his shoulders, the place he had his black dagger put when we first decided to do this together. I absently rubbed my forearm. 

"We're a known bunch around here," I said. "Our little... club."

"Okay," Bricker looked skeptical. "And you do what, exactly?"

"We... er..." Jexa was struggling. 

"Charity work," I said. "Feeding the hungry. Warming the cold. Finding roofs for children who need one."

"Right," Bricker said, unconvinced. "And the fortune that fuels this comes from where?"

"Well, he's a sharp one, isn't he?" Jexa muttered. 

I eyed Bricker, deciding how far to push our luck. 

"Let me ask you this, Bricker," I started. "Have you seen hunger? True hunger, and cold, and poverty that swallows the good in a person and spits out a miserable bag of bones willing to do anything to live? You have to have seen some of it. Lindmead is on the edge of the warzone. Tell me, Bricker, what do you think of a person leading that kind of life?"

Bricker frowned. "It's terrible, of course. I feel bad for the children when I see them. I'll admit, I've passed parts of my lunch to them on my way to deliver messages before."

"And have you ever wished you could do more?" I asked.

"Of course," Bricker said. "But a message runner doesn't make much. Just enough to get by for myself and to help my parents out."

"And the nobility, what do you think of them?" I asked. "Have you met many? Do you like them? Their way of life?"

Bricker thought for a moment. "I don't usually deliver messages to anyone too important. If anything I just drop them off to the house servants."

I nodded. Lindmead didn't have the same divide that Unays did in their people. Maybe he just hadn't seen it yet. 

"Bricker, I'm going to give you an opportunity, and ask you a favor," I said.

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Go on."

"The favor is that you please not speak of us or our location to anyone," I said.

He nodded. "I owe your sister my life. I won't tell anyone."

I smiled. "Good. Now, the opportunity. I want you to take a few days after you find your family and observe the people of Unays. You want a fresh start here, right? Well, what better time than now to learn about this place?"

"Okay," Bricker said heasitantly. "Just observe the people?"

"Yes," I said. "Just observe. See how our guards work."

"Oh, I know how your guards work," he spat.

I raised a hand. "Take another look. Don't judge from one, judge from many. And watch how the people dress, and talk, and act. Watch people in Swamp district, Green district, Hammer district. Go wherever you can. Just observe, and when you get angry, come find us. I'll give you that opportunity I promised."

Jexa eyed me. "Davery..."

"Just keep me in mind, okay?" I asked.

Bricker watched me for a moment. His eyes flickered to Jexa and back. "No promises, but I'll think on your words."

"That's a good lad," I said, grinning up at Jexa.

"Alright then, so what's the plan?" Jexa asked, clapping his hands together.

"We're looking for some long lost family," I said, turning to Bricker. "You tell him."

Bricker, who had been pleasantly silent until now, spoke up. "Well, my mother's sister ran off to Unays when they were still teenagers. Mother married and stayed in Lindmead, but my aunt managed to still send letters every once in a while. They stayed in contact to this day, one or two letters a year. The last letter we got from her was about five months ago."

"And does this letter have an address?" Jexa asked. 

Bricker shook his head. "I don't think she can write, because the letters were always from a clerk's office."

"I suspect she's within Dock district," I said. "You might start with the clerks there."

"You got it, Davery," Jexa said. "C'mon, Bricker. Let's get walkin'."

I helped Bricker up from the bed. He looked rough, but he could walk at least.

"Good luck," I told them as Jexa helped Bricker out the door. "And remember what I said."

Bricker gave me one last glance as Jexa lead him away. "I... will. I will."

And they left, giving me time to think. Always a danger when I'm involved. A grin spread across my lips as I gathered up our bowls from last night, taking them up to the kitchens. 

Time to get to work.