Chapter 4: Mob of Merchants

I stand in line beside Cassiope as her order is run up. Grocery day makes for a nice outing, one that makes for a nice change every several months because when Cassiope does shop in town, she stocks up well. She has the money to do that.

We are in Foley's Apothecary, watching as daughter Lillian rings up the latest order. She is pretty, and not so bad for a Merchant. She's in my year in school, or was when I still went to school. Top of her class. Her father and the head proprietor, Barnabus, hands Cassiope her order.

"Here are your groceries... and your bill, Miss Fletch." I no longer wince at his use of 'groceries' in place of what Cassiope is actually buying: 'drugs'.

Cassiope smiles gratefully as she leaves the shop. As I make to follow, Lillian grabs my arm from across the counter.

"Haymitch - you HAVE to talk to her!"

I frown. "About what?"

"About what she's buying! Prozac? Morphling? Those are hard drugs! If she overdoses on even one of those, Haymitch, she'll DIE! And you'll be all alone!"

I smile broadly as I extract myself from her grasp, finger by finger. "Sweet cakes," I say, satisfied by Barnabus's choke of disapproval. As if I would do something as stupid as flirt with a Merchant, Victor or not! "Cassiope has been buying from your shop for decades. And she's still kicking! I think she'll be fine."

Lillian raises an eyebrow. "Of course you wouldn't listen," she scoffs. "You're the guy who's drunk in the Hob by 3 in the afternoon, walking home from school."

"And Cassiope drinks me under the table!" I capitalize on. "And she takes drugs! AND she's still alive! I think she knows what she's doing." And I leave the shop.

But as Cassiope and I head up the hill to the Village, I think back over what Lillian said. And it worries me. Suppose Cassiope does overdose by accident and leaves me all by myself? The last three Games have been hard on mentoring, with all six of my protégés dying the first day, too stupid to save their own skins.

But my fears are allayed somewhat when I see what Cassiope has bought the morphling for.

Every six months or so, my scar from the Career girl's axe can begin to bleed. When this happens, Cassiope helps me apply a coat of morphling over it, followed by a bandage around my torso. I don't mind it so much because it happens at long and consistent intervals - about once every six months. But man, does that motherfucker sting!

"GAHH!" I wince as Cassiope applies still more morphling paste.

"Calm down, it's gonna be fine," she assures me.

"It's never going away... is it?" It is a loaded question, not just about the morphling coat, and I hate how I sound like a little boy when I ask it.

Cassiope sighs heavily. "No." She pauses. "But better having to do this every six months than having you dead. You're my only friend, my very young apprentice."

I blink, surprised. But I shouldn't be. Since my family's death, Cassiope has become like a mother to me. "As are you... Master."


The knock arrives at my door late one night, after dark.

At first, I think it might be Cassiope, returned from an evening meal at the Hob and armed with the latest gossip. Or perhaps it is that kindly, red headed Peacekeeper Adam Pontipee, who has taken to including Victors' Village in his nightly patrols. He usually just taps on the door of Cassiope's and my places, with a friendly howdy-do and assurance that both of District 12's Victors are safe.

But when I open the door, it is neither Cassiope nor Adam who greets me. It is instead a Seam boy with gray eyes, pale skin and brown hair. He was in my grade in school, maybe a year behind me. And he can sing like no one else, the star of the school choir. Even the birds sometimes stop to listen...

"Estes? Estes Everdeen?"

For yes, it is indeed the young Seam miner on my front stoop, and who should be there clutching his hand but Lillian Foley of the Apothecary shop.

"Haymitch," she begs. "They're after us. The whole Merchant class! You have to help us, please!"

"What's happened?" I ask.

"We just had a Toasting," Estes explains, clutching Lillian's hand. "We're in love."

In the distance, I can see the glow of what can only be torches, shouting moving through the District. "Aw, shit! Well, get in here, for heaven's sake!" And I usher them both in. I have the perfect place to hide them - the Telephone Room.

The Telephone Room is a staple fixture in every mansion. Every Victor of every Victors' Village in every district of Panem has to have one. Most Victors just view it was a spare room, equipped with only a desk and a phone atop it. A phone that gives you a hotline directly to the Capitol. Cassiope has one. As for me, I almost never go in here.

"Why's it so dark?" Estes peers inside.

"Just because I have to have it doesn't mean I have to decorate it," I quip. "Now get in there!" I all but shove the couple in. "And whatever you do - don't touch that phone!"

"Why? Is it bugged?" Lillian shrinks away from the phone.

"I've checked that damn thing up and down for bugs and hidden cameras, and I haven't found any! But that doesn't mean they're not spying on me!" I snarl. "Just stand still and don't make a sound!"

When I hurry outside to get the lay of the land, I can see that the Merchant mob has arrived at the Village and has already gathered at Cassiope's front stoop. The leader appears to be Estes's father, Lark, who is now practically begging Cassiope to intervene. "Please, Cass... we're friends..."

"Lark, I don't know enough about your son to know if what he did was wrong. I'm sorry," Cassiope is saying, as I stroll up.

"What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?" I ask as calmly as I can.

"My son has run off with this man's daughter," Lark shoots a look at Barnabus, as if it is the Merchant's fault. "We are going to track them down, break up this so-called marriage, and stop this foolishness!"

"Well, Mr. Everdeen, this isn't exactly a large District," I point out. "They could be anywhere, but those places aren't many."

"Yeah, we've checked the Justice Building, the Merchant sector, the Seam! This is the only place left!"

I pretend to think about it. "Have you tried the woods?" I offer up genuinely.

"Why would they go there?" Barnabus sneers at me, as though I am the scum under his shoe.

I observe the two fathers, and the posse behind them. I can tell from Lark's and Barnabus's body language that neither man has any love lost between them. They are simply uniting under a common cause: to get their children back. And that right there gives me all I need to know to do what I have to do next. I have to break up the fathers, not the children. And I can only do that by discrediting at least one of them, both if I can manage it. I pretend to study Lark closely; I'll start with him since I have the easiest dirt on him.

"Ah, yes, I remember you. You're that fellow who visited Cass in the night several winters ago. Just lost your wife. And you didn't leave until the next morning!"

Dead silence. The posse is looking at each other or at the ground. Anywhere but at me. Perhaps they don't believe me, and perhaps they have every right not to, as my reputation as a trickster precedes me. But one look at Cassiope's pale face or Lark's clenched jaw should tell even the simplest of Seamers that I speak the truth.

I've heard what my fellow Victors say about me. What everyone says about me. They might not be so bold as to say it to my face, but word gets back to me what they say behind their backs. They think I'm such a trickster. Troublemaker for noticing things about them. Embarrassing things. I really shouldn't be that smart. A drunk shouldn't be that smart. But here's the thing about most people, be they ordinary folk in Twelve or Victors in the Capitol: they all have misplaced arrogance about their own intellect. And not just misplaced - false. Some might call me arrogant, but that's because I am the smartest person who walks into any room. And I know it. And they resent me for that, especially when I expose them for their own stupidity.

Lark's face twists further and he finally barks to his men, "I want every house in this Village, to be searched from top to bottom!"

They start with the empty houses first, breaking down the doors and scanning from basement to attic. As they do so, I silently communicate to Cassiope with my eyes: They are safe?

They're in your place?

Yup.

I stroll calmly, so as not to betray my nerves, back onto my front porch and sit vigil in a rocking chair. Cassiope takes up a similar post. This mob can search every mansion in this Village they want. Every empty mansion that is.

Most Villages have a dozen mansions pre-built. No District that I know of, not even the Careers, has reached greater than twelve wins. So, once the mob has searched the ten empty mansions that District 12 holds, they grumbingly move to leave. I decide to drive one more nail in the coffin:

"I hope you're not thinking of searching mine or Cassiope's places, Barnabus. Otherwise, no more business from us." It's a weak trump card, I know, but Barnabus still scowls. I am satisfied when the men leave the Village, and - at a loss for where to go next - reluctantly move towards the district fence and the woods.

As soon as they are out of earshot, Cassiope comes running up to me. "How did you know they wouldn't look in our houses?"

"Lark Everdeen is as dumb as a brick wall, but he's not dumb enough to invade a Victor's property and break the law." I smirk. Then, I rush inside and fetch Estes and Lillian from the Telephone Room.

They hold hands and give each other such tender looks that even I have to smile. What father would want to break up that?

Lillian actually kisses me on the cheek. "Thanks, Haymitch."

I smile here even if I want to make a face like a child. "You're welcome."

Estes shakes my hand. "Thank you, Mr. Abernathy."

"It's Haymitch," I grin. "No formal bullshit, Estes. We're peers."

Cassiope and I see the couple out of the Village. I only learn later how Barnabus would find the two and, in a rage, disown his daughter. And I had no idea that my path would cross again with the Everdeens in a profound way, 24 years later.