When Daks woke up hours later, not feeling much more rested than he had before sleeping, Ora had come into the room. It was her bedtime. He tucked her in and then went downstairs to the bar and sat down.
A full pint slid in front of him, sloshing liquid onto the bar. Daks looked up. Cathmor’s somber face studied him, the usual faint glint of playfulness hiding behind his eyes. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. Just in town with my harvest.”
Cath’s eyes narrowed. “I can read you pretty well, friend. What’s going on?”
Daks groaned. He took the pint and downed it.
“Slow down. Can’t have you drinking everything—I have other customers to think of, you know.” Cath chuckled.
Daks slammed the pint onto the bar and wiped the excess liquid off his mouth with his sleeve. “Cath, I’m in the middle of some serious shite.”
Cath’s eyebrows arched. “Sounds serious. What’s going on? Is it the harvest?
“No, no, it has nothing to do with the farm, Cath. I—I—it’s the most insane—just how—I just don’t know—but I can’t—”
“Daks. You’re making no sense. Start at the beginning.”
Daks told how he and Ora found a young woman and had taken her in. “It’s starting to feel like she belongs. She fits in so well with me and Ora and the boys. But recently, she told me something she had done. Something really terrible. And…I don’t know if I can move past it. But the strange thing, I think, is I could. I really could. I trust her. But I can’t—shouldn’t. I have Ora to think of. Is Ora safe with this woman? But we love her. I just can’t believe she’s the person who did what she says she did.”
“You are a man of so many words tonight!” Cath chuckled again. “I seem to recall you and I living completely different lives as different people a few years ago, both of us doing things that are hard for people to move past. But Quin moved past it; you moved past it; I moved past it. Now you’re one of the best men I’ve ever known, a man of integrity and a loving father—and you were a loving husband.”
“But do I want to drag Ora into this? If the wrong people find us with this woman, it would be very bad.”
“Well, only you can be the judge of that. Are you fond of her? As a woman?”
Daks hesitated.
“Well, you better figure that out quickly. Ora will get attached, and it will be more difficult to tear yourselves from her. Don’t play around.”
Daks nodded. He stared at the bottles behind Cathmor, different shapes and sizes and colors and levels of fullness. A big round blue, a small square brown, a tall thin green.
The sound of another man’s voice met his ears—too loud and too close for comfort. “Cathmor! Another ale!”
“Right away,” Cath said, walking back to the wall of bottles.
Daks glanced over at the man who had spoken. A middle-aged man with a receding, brown head of hair but a full, vibrant red beard. He was a long, lanky fellow sitting a few stools down from himself, hunched over the bar.
Cath sat a pint before the red-bearded man.
“Did you hear about the wolf-sighting at the Maeir’s mansion? Just before dawn! Some of the maids saw.”
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“Oh, yes, Millard. I’ve heard all about that.”
Millard was disappointment. Then his face lit up. “Well, did you hear about the fight that broke out at Steenie’s?”
“Between Neville and that old man, a sailor, I think?”
“Brennan.”
“Yes, yes. I did hear about that.”
Millard’s face dropped. Then his face lit up even more. “Oh, oh! Here’s something I bet you haven’t heard.”
Cath chuckled. “Atcha. What is it?” He leaned on the bar.
Millard leaned in, his eyes sparkling with glee. He spoke quieter, but Daks still didn’t have to struggle to hear him since the pub had quieted down. “The other day, I was at Manon’s, and he was talking to a customer about this woman who used to work at Scur’s pub. One day, she goes bregensec on Scur’s favorite barmaid…”
Daks’ stomach churned.
“She takes a huge knife and stabs her in the back! Over and over again! The poor woman’s back was like minced meat by the end of it. Apparently, they were getting ready to let the other daem go—she was slacking on the job and patrons were complaining—but they hadn’t told her yet. Scur had rescued the girl from an orphanage over 5 years ago. He couldn’t believe that she had done such a thing. Mildred has been almost catatonic since she saw the woman—Iris, mayhaps—’s body. He’s closed the pub down—mayhaps for good!”
Cath’s eyebrows arched high, triggering the deep folds of his forehead. “Well. That is awful.”
“And you know what the worst part is? The barmaid had a young son—eleven years old—who helped at the pub. No father—he died in that explosion at the vaer factory years ago.”
“Oh, no,” Cathmor said.
Daks’ mouth was dry, but his hands were soaked in sweat.
“Scur let the boy stay with them, but not long after, he came down ill and died.”
Daks didn’t think his heart could have dropped any lower, but it somehow did.
“What a shame,” Cath said, wiping the bar down with a weathered, wet cloth. “Did they catch the girl who did it?”
Millard’s eyes were huge, basking in the glow of their attention. “No! The barmaid’s son was the last one to see her. She ran out of the pub early in the morning, absolutely covered in blood!”
“That’s horrible.”
Daks couldn’t hear this.
“Makes you wonder,” said Millard, “How could a person do that—to a good woman, a mother…?”
“It’s evil, it is.” Cath’s nostrils flared, his lips curled in disgust. “Pure, unadulterated evil.”
Daks had to leave. He could not hear this. He had to go. How was it so much worse that what Prim had said? And she didn’t know the boy had died.
He jumped up and promptly collapsed.
Cath’s face was the next thing Daks saw, first distorted with worry, and then relaxed in relief. “Daks! Daks, you well?”
Daks nodded.
“What happened? We were all worried for a moment there!”
“‘We…’?” Daks looked around to see Renny, one of the cooks, another barmaid, and several intrigued and concerned patrons peering down at him. He was sitting with his back against the bar between the stools.
He jolted, startled, and bumped is head on the bottom of the bar counter.
“Careful, careful, milysh,” Renny said, swiftly moving in toward him and touching his shoulder. “Just breathe. You had quite the fall.”
Daks’ eyes closed, and he breathed in deeply.
“There you go.”
Cath turned to the rest of the watchers. “Go back to your own business now. He’s fine. Don’t act like you’ve never seen a drunk man before!”
Cath and Renny helped Daks up. “Thanks.”
“What happened there, Daks?” Cath asked.
Daks shook his head. “I don’t—I can’t—”
“Millard was talking about that murderer girl, and you jumped up and dropped like a boulder.”
It all flooded back. Daks’ head felt like a floating cloud, and he lost footing for a moment.
“Whoa, whoa,” Renny said. “There it is. Let’s sit you down.”
They helped Daks to a chair at a table in a dark corner. Cath sat down beside him as Renny rushed away.
“What’s going on, Daks?” Cath asked.
Daks put his hand to his forehead and sighed. “I’m well. Just tired from our journey today. And I’m probably a little drunk.”
Cath looked at him suspiciously. “That’s horse shite. You’ve only ever been drunk once in your whole life—I was there! And I know you haven’t had anywhere near that much tonight—I’m the bartender, you know! Don’t take me for a fool. What’s going on?”
“I can’t tell you, Cath.”
“Atcha…if you’re sure.”
Daks couldn’t drag his closest friend into this. It was too heavy a burden to carry. He looked straight into Cath’s eyes. “I’ve never been surer.”
Cath begrudgingly nodded.
They sat in silence for a moment.
Daks finally rose. “I love you. A man couldn’t have a better friend. I better go to bed or else Ora will be worried.”
“See you in the morning, brother,” Cath said with a rueful smile.
“Good night.”
Daks found Ora asleep in their room, sprawled across the bed. He picked her up and laid her down on one side. Then he kissed her on the forehead as he pulled the covers up.
His body felt so heavy as he laid down on the other side of the bed. He stared at a painting depicting two black ducks by a pond. Eventually, his eyelids fluttered shut
