Chapter 5
Quatre didn't know where this strange young warrior was taking him, but he was sure that it would be best to stay with her, at least, until he knew where he was in the first place. There were so many questions he wanted answered, but that would have to come later. They had been running for at least half an hour now. He wondered at this point, if this young woman knew where show as going at all! Suddenly, they slowed and the other dropped his hand. For a brief moment, he thought this woman was letting him go only to pass out, but he realized that she only intended to go into a nearby wooden building. He supposed his only other choice was to follow.
The staircase was dark and shabby, no room to move, to breath… to think. It made Quatre uneasy to be in such a confined space and with him being on the run. The young woman must have sensed his uneasiness for she turned and glanced at him once or twice, speeding up only a little. Quatre could feel the weariness of that day building within him. He shook himself to try to sharpen his senses.
Finally, they came to a wooden door. The woman slowed her steps and waved an arm behind her to silence Quatre. She waved at him to get low as she drew closer to the door, reaching out quietly to rap her first against the door a few times. There was some shuffling from inside as the person came to the door. Quatre felt his blood begin to rush through his body. He felt the anticipation for a battle. He looked over at his companion and for the first time saw her face clearly. She wasn't beautiful, but there was something about her eyes that captured his mind. Her stance was tense as a hoarse voice came from behind the thick door.
"Who is it?" came a man's voice, and not very young at that. The woman crouched lower with an odd gleam in her eye as she answered.
I've brought word from Nitza," it as a low voice, barely recognizable from the voice that Quatre had heard earlier and it held a small lisp, an accent often heard in the central area of the country. The shuffling turned to a clumsy attempt to open the door, but the man failed at first. He was obviously drunk. Quatre thought he heard a slight curse under the woman's breath. The moment the door opened a crack, she shot forward, barging through the door, knocking the man off his feet. Quatre sat amazed in the stairwell as the woman proceeded to pull out a knife from the inside of her thigh, holding down the man as the tip of knife nearly kissed the man's throat. He was obviously surprised by the onslaught, but not panicked.
"What in the name of the king are you doing?" cried the old man. He was balding and the little bit of hair that was left was all grey with a hint of brown. He was a hunchback, barely able to keep himself from rolling to the side. His bottom lip protruded in an ugly sneer, but his eyes sparkled with intelligence, despite his flushed cheeks from the drink he had consumed.
"Braul," she sneered, nearly spitting on him. Quatre assumed that was the poor man's name. "What kind of guard are you? A million soldiers could simply walk in, ransack our place, and left your blood painting the walls!" Braul looked exasperated for a moment.
"We're not in Nitza anymore if you've noticed by now, Miss Catalonia," he spat out. "Now if you'll kindly get off of me, I will be happy to fix the hinge of the door which you tore off and to get a drink for your friend." Braul nodded towards Quatre who still sat outside. It was as if 'Miss Catalonia' had forgotten about him. She quickly dragged him in, slamming the door and immediately hustling him into a chair.
"May I ask who this young man is?" asked Braul.
"No." It was a blunt answer. Braul was not at all offended by this response.
"Well, you can at least tell me where you picked him up." At this point, Braul had poured out a strong smelling liquid and handed it to Quatre without even glancing at him. Dorothy stood next to a small table, casually flipping through a pile of papers and then dismissing them just as casually. She turned to the window without answering. Te little man sighed and proceeded to cork the jug and place it among other jars in a nearby cupboard. Quatre caught a glance of some of the contents of the jars and forced himself to swallow the bile rising in his throat. Eyes, fingers, ears all sat pickled in glass containers. They floated in perfect preservation. The jars were obviously worn by travel, but the human parts inside seemed quite in tact. Quatre had heard of such practices. This woman warrior obviously believed that carrying around her slain enemies' body parts would improve her fighting abilities. Quatre took note not to allow her the knowledge of his true identity of the youngest Patron ever to survive the games. Just the thought of the games brought unwanted memories.
The whining pitch in Braul's tone brought Quatre back to his present situation. What did this woman want with him? He froze maybe she already knew and had arranged for his death. The thought kicked him into action. He slowly began to edge his way towards the door.
"Miss Catalonia, why must we stay here? There are rumors that the games have been postponed until further notice. If that's true, then we will be stuck here for another month. That doesn't include the time it takes to clear out the crowds." The woman continued to stare out the window, never responding. Quatre had only reached for the knob when Catalonia finally spoke.
"Do not think of leaving, Quatre Rabarba Winner." He froze in mid action. So she knew who he was; no point in acting like a cowering slave. He stood tall and proud, but Dorothy remained facing the window.
"The city is crawling with soldiers. You wouldn't get past the inner city limits in one piece. You're safer here than out there." Quatre glanced at the jars and almost asked 'Are you sure?' At that moment, Dorothy turned back again to face the two men.
"Braul, pack our things we are leaving tonight. A certain friend of mine informed me that one month is exactly what I have. We'll go to the mountains until then." Braul looked stunned.
"Miss Catalonia, like you said only moments ago, the city is crawling with soldiers. They'll stop us, recognize our… guest, and then we're all dead." Her dull stare turned on Braul.
"What's the matter, Braul? Only moments ago you were volunteering to leave," she mocked.
"That was before I found out you were planning on leaving in the middle of the night with a refugee."
"Braul…"
"What?"
"Shut up before I drop you in with the other slaves." That had no effect on her servant.
"Lady Catalonia, your father instructed me to watch over you and that is exactly what I'll do, even if it means letting you throw one of your fits." Quatre watched as a small hint of amusement crept into her eyes.
"I apologize, Braul, but with or without you, the ex-Patron and I are leaving tonight. My father will learn someday that he cannot control my actions all of my life. Now it was Braul's turn to be amused.
"You do know that he will never learn that lesson." Just like that, any tension that had formed was swept away. Finally, Dorothy turned to Quatre.
"Take off your clothes." Quatre's eyes widened as his jaw nearly hit the floor.
"N… Nani!"
"I have no interest in that," she said disgusted. She glanced at Braul. "Go down and order them to prepare some warm water. This man needs a bath." Braul obeyed without a word. When they were alone, Dorothy walked over to one of the two packs and began to rummage around through the contents. Quatre still stood very close to the door. He could run, but something held him there. She was right. The streets had to be crawling with soldiers. Besides, she wouldn't kill him yet. It was in battle that she would do t his terrible deed to gain the body parts she required. He wouldn't be defeated very easily either.
"Come here," she ordered. Quatre broke out of his daze and stared at her as she pulled out a fresh set of breeches and shirt. There on the bed rested a cloak and boots. After she glared at him for taking so long, he finally moved forward. She held the clothing to make sure it was the right size. Satisfied, she se it on the bed along side the rest of the items. She examined him closely.
"We will give you one day to recover. I was hasty in suggesting that we leave tonight. It is against my better judgment, but we won't get far in your current state." At that point, Braul walked in with the two others carrying the water. Dorothy instructed them to place it in the center of the room. Then she sent Braul down to get food and wine as well. She turned towards the cupboard and pulled out a jar containing a human eyeball. Quatre felt his body stiffen. Dorothy spared him a small amused smile. Without hesitating, she whipped out her knife and stabbed it into the top, pealing away the wax and cork. Quatre refused to move as his curiosity began to gnaw at him. Instead of coming for him to gouge out an eyeball from his socket, she stood over the tub of water and took a handful of the contents and dumped it into the water. Surprisingly, what came out was a fine blue powder. Quatre squinted his eyes and he suddenly realized what was going on. She was using veiling magic. What everyone saw was a gruesome ritual, but she actually carried precious powders. They were prized items, enough that someone would kill for them. No one would want a jar of human flesh. She sat down and pulled out a board of cork and cut out a large chunk, fitting it snuggly into the opening. Then she picked up the candle on the table and began to drip it on the edges of the cork and jar. Within moments, it was sealed once again. Braul returned with the food. Quatre eyed it hungrily, but Dorothy had another agenda.
"First a bath, then you can eat. You're filthy." Quatre glowered. Then why did she bring in all that food? It was obvious she wasn't planning on leaving so he went ahead and stripped down and quickly got into the freezing water. He heard Braul mumbling.
"Mistress, did you see his back? He's covered in scars."
"He was a Patron; you do not expect a Patron to come out of that place unscathed. You are never to mention his title outside of our company. Is that understood?"
"No need to treat me like a child. I understand." Dorothy looked straight at Quatre.
"We leave in the morning. The powder will help your strength. You should be fully recovered by the time we reach the hills." Quatre knew this woman had some plan in store for him. At the moment, he could do nothing but follow along.
Quatre didn't know where this strange young warrior was taking him, but he was sure that it would be best to stay with her, at least, until he knew where he was in the first place. There were so many questions he wanted answered, but that would have to come later. They had been running for at least half an hour now. He wondered at this point, if this young woman knew where show as going at all! Suddenly, they slowed and the other dropped his hand. For a brief moment, he thought this woman was letting him go only to pass out, but he realized that she only intended to go into a nearby wooden building. He supposed his only other choice was to follow.
The staircase was dark and shabby, no room to move, to breath… to think. It made Quatre uneasy to be in such a confined space and with him being on the run. The young woman must have sensed his uneasiness for she turned and glanced at him once or twice, speeding up only a little. Quatre could feel the weariness of that day building within him. He shook himself to try to sharpen his senses.
Finally, they came to a wooden door. The woman slowed her steps and waved an arm behind her to silence Quatre. She waved at him to get low as she drew closer to the door, reaching out quietly to rap her first against the door a few times. There was some shuffling from inside as the person came to the door. Quatre felt his blood begin to rush through his body. He felt the anticipation for a battle. He looked over at his companion and for the first time saw her face clearly. She wasn't beautiful, but there was something about her eyes that captured his mind. Her stance was tense as a hoarse voice came from behind the thick door.
"Who is it?" came a man's voice, and not very young at that. The woman crouched lower with an odd gleam in her eye as she answered.
I've brought word from Nitza," it as a low voice, barely recognizable from the voice that Quatre had heard earlier and it held a small lisp, an accent often heard in the central area of the country. The shuffling turned to a clumsy attempt to open the door, but the man failed at first. He was obviously drunk. Quatre thought he heard a slight curse under the woman's breath. The moment the door opened a crack, she shot forward, barging through the door, knocking the man off his feet. Quatre sat amazed in the stairwell as the woman proceeded to pull out a knife from the inside of her thigh, holding down the man as the tip of knife nearly kissed the man's throat. He was obviously surprised by the onslaught, but not panicked.
"What in the name of the king are you doing?" cried the old man. He was balding and the little bit of hair that was left was all grey with a hint of brown. He was a hunchback, barely able to keep himself from rolling to the side. His bottom lip protruded in an ugly sneer, but his eyes sparkled with intelligence, despite his flushed cheeks from the drink he had consumed.
"Braul," she sneered, nearly spitting on him. Quatre assumed that was the poor man's name. "What kind of guard are you? A million soldiers could simply walk in, ransack our place, and left your blood painting the walls!" Braul looked exasperated for a moment.
"We're not in Nitza anymore if you've noticed by now, Miss Catalonia," he spat out. "Now if you'll kindly get off of me, I will be happy to fix the hinge of the door which you tore off and to get a drink for your friend." Braul nodded towards Quatre who still sat outside. It was as if 'Miss Catalonia' had forgotten about him. She quickly dragged him in, slamming the door and immediately hustling him into a chair.
"May I ask who this young man is?" asked Braul.
"No." It was a blunt answer. Braul was not at all offended by this response.
"Well, you can at least tell me where you picked him up." At this point, Braul had poured out a strong smelling liquid and handed it to Quatre without even glancing at him. Dorothy stood next to a small table, casually flipping through a pile of papers and then dismissing them just as casually. She turned to the window without answering. Te little man sighed and proceeded to cork the jug and place it among other jars in a nearby cupboard. Quatre caught a glance of some of the contents of the jars and forced himself to swallow the bile rising in his throat. Eyes, fingers, ears all sat pickled in glass containers. They floated in perfect preservation. The jars were obviously worn by travel, but the human parts inside seemed quite in tact. Quatre had heard of such practices. This woman warrior obviously believed that carrying around her slain enemies' body parts would improve her fighting abilities. Quatre took note not to allow her the knowledge of his true identity of the youngest Patron ever to survive the games. Just the thought of the games brought unwanted memories.
The whining pitch in Braul's tone brought Quatre back to his present situation. What did this woman want with him? He froze maybe she already knew and had arranged for his death. The thought kicked him into action. He slowly began to edge his way towards the door.
"Miss Catalonia, why must we stay here? There are rumors that the games have been postponed until further notice. If that's true, then we will be stuck here for another month. That doesn't include the time it takes to clear out the crowds." The woman continued to stare out the window, never responding. Quatre had only reached for the knob when Catalonia finally spoke.
"Do not think of leaving, Quatre Rabarba Winner." He froze in mid action. So she knew who he was; no point in acting like a cowering slave. He stood tall and proud, but Dorothy remained facing the window.
"The city is crawling with soldiers. You wouldn't get past the inner city limits in one piece. You're safer here than out there." Quatre glanced at the jars and almost asked 'Are you sure?' At that moment, Dorothy turned back again to face the two men.
"Braul, pack our things we are leaving tonight. A certain friend of mine informed me that one month is exactly what I have. We'll go to the mountains until then." Braul looked stunned.
"Miss Catalonia, like you said only moments ago, the city is crawling with soldiers. They'll stop us, recognize our… guest, and then we're all dead." Her dull stare turned on Braul.
"What's the matter, Braul? Only moments ago you were volunteering to leave," she mocked.
"That was before I found out you were planning on leaving in the middle of the night with a refugee."
"Braul…"
"What?"
"Shut up before I drop you in with the other slaves." That had no effect on her servant.
"Lady Catalonia, your father instructed me to watch over you and that is exactly what I'll do, even if it means letting you throw one of your fits." Quatre watched as a small hint of amusement crept into her eyes.
"I apologize, Braul, but with or without you, the ex-Patron and I are leaving tonight. My father will learn someday that he cannot control my actions all of my life. Now it was Braul's turn to be amused.
"You do know that he will never learn that lesson." Just like that, any tension that had formed was swept away. Finally, Dorothy turned to Quatre.
"Take off your clothes." Quatre's eyes widened as his jaw nearly hit the floor.
"N… Nani!"
"I have no interest in that," she said disgusted. She glanced at Braul. "Go down and order them to prepare some warm water. This man needs a bath." Braul obeyed without a word. When they were alone, Dorothy walked over to one of the two packs and began to rummage around through the contents. Quatre still stood very close to the door. He could run, but something held him there. She was right. The streets had to be crawling with soldiers. Besides, she wouldn't kill him yet. It was in battle that she would do t his terrible deed to gain the body parts she required. He wouldn't be defeated very easily either.
"Come here," she ordered. Quatre broke out of his daze and stared at her as she pulled out a fresh set of breeches and shirt. There on the bed rested a cloak and boots. After she glared at him for taking so long, he finally moved forward. She held the clothing to make sure it was the right size. Satisfied, she se it on the bed along side the rest of the items. She examined him closely.
"We will give you one day to recover. I was hasty in suggesting that we leave tonight. It is against my better judgment, but we won't get far in your current state." At that point, Braul walked in with the two others carrying the water. Dorothy instructed them to place it in the center of the room. Then she sent Braul down to get food and wine as well. She turned towards the cupboard and pulled out a jar containing a human eyeball. Quatre felt his body stiffen. Dorothy spared him a small amused smile. Without hesitating, she whipped out her knife and stabbed it into the top, pealing away the wax and cork. Quatre refused to move as his curiosity began to gnaw at him. Instead of coming for him to gouge out an eyeball from his socket, she stood over the tub of water and took a handful of the contents and dumped it into the water. Surprisingly, what came out was a fine blue powder. Quatre squinted his eyes and he suddenly realized what was going on. She was using veiling magic. What everyone saw was a gruesome ritual, but she actually carried precious powders. They were prized items, enough that someone would kill for them. No one would want a jar of human flesh. She sat down and pulled out a board of cork and cut out a large chunk, fitting it snuggly into the opening. Then she picked up the candle on the table and began to drip it on the edges of the cork and jar. Within moments, it was sealed once again. Braul returned with the food. Quatre eyed it hungrily, but Dorothy had another agenda.
"First a bath, then you can eat. You're filthy." Quatre glowered. Then why did she bring in all that food? It was obvious she wasn't planning on leaving so he went ahead and stripped down and quickly got into the freezing water. He heard Braul mumbling.
"Mistress, did you see his back? He's covered in scars."
"He was a Patron; you do not expect a Patron to come out of that place unscathed. You are never to mention his title outside of our company. Is that understood?"
"No need to treat me like a child. I understand." Dorothy looked straight at Quatre.
"We leave in the morning. The powder will help your strength. You should be fully recovered by the time we reach the hills." Quatre knew this woman had some plan in store for him. At the moment, he could do nothing but follow along.
