Garrett was hesitant to relinquish the ring.
It was the first inkling of a clue to the wordless riddle Garrett had only just discovered, the first step down the blind mystery he was hellbent to see through. The only thing he had to go off to find Erin…
But he owed Basso much. His extended stay at the Haven had wounded not only their partnership but their friendship, and Basso was a far, far better ally than enemy.
And if giving up the ring was the first step towards mending what Garrett had broken…
Well, it wasn't as though Garrett couldn't just take the ring back, he had done so before. Once a piece was out of Basso's hands, it was free pickings, if the new owner was careless enough with it that is. The pay was decent at least. Whoever wanted the ring more than the General was prepared to spend the coin for it, and in times of strife, that was a rarity.
The Queen of Beggars was quite pleased to see such a generous donation.
"My beggars told me of your exploit to the Foundry." She mused softly, her voice ever fragile with age, but alighted with a sort of grim mirth; "A horrible place… Half the dead the guard collects aren't even passed when they heave them onto their carts." Her words were accompanied by a young beggar, a woman, waifish and pale, delivering a teapot, hot and steaming.
"I recall when that foundry was just a foundry." The Queen hummed as her beggar tilted the pop, the tea poured was a deep amber, strong and fragrant. Garrett took the cup offered to him by the beggar, holding it between his palms, basking in the fragile warmth while the Queen stared thoughtless and sightlessly into her own cup before she finally broke her silence.
"Foreign run by some family southward." She began, bemused; "Said to be the safest place for work in all of the city. Not a single death from the day its doors opened until the owners up and abandoned it."
Garrett huffed wryly at that; "A joke then isn't it? That the once safest place in the city now hosts the majority of the dead." The Queen of Beggars paused to blow steam from the surface of her tea, taking a ginger sip before replying.
"We are in a most vicious cycle Garrett." She murmured against the rim of her teacup; "Life and death. Growth and decay. Between the two, the only certainty is suffering."
The Queen lowered her cup, setting it back on the side tabe with steady hands; "Some named family seeks the city for a place to establish themselves. Life." The old woman continued.
"They build themselves the foundry, for work, for profit. Growth." With blind certainty, the Queen reached out to her chessboard, idly toying with the King before she pushed it to balance precariously at an angle.
"The family leaves. The Foundry abandoned to whomever may find use for it."
The king fell with a tiny wooden clunk, rolling along the stained checkered board until it came to rest at the foot of the enemy queen..
"One day, the foundry will fall, as all things do…" Garrett's eyes lingered on the chess piece as the Queen's teacup returned to her hands; "You found something at the Foundry, didn't you Garrett?"
"I did." He replied simply, the old woman nodded, taking another sip of her tea. Garrett knew better than to question how the Queen of Beggars had come to know such things, he had known her for years, and in those years, she had never once let slip her secrets.
"You don't intend to take part in the child's communion I take?" The Queen hummed, not in accusation, but in simple fact.
"I do not." Garrett replied firmly. The old woman sniffed at that, shaking her head in disappointment.
"You would slight the child's offer for such pettiness?" The Queen asked quietly, Garrett scoffed, his grip tightening, threatening to shatter the cup between his palms.
"I refuse to become a pawn upon his board." A weathered hand shot out, faster than Garrett expected her able to as the Queen of Beggars gently, so very gently, took his hand in her own, thumb, paper white, river stone smoothed by time, running along the back of his knuckles.
"You are as much a pawn upon his board as I am a queen." The old woman told the thief, giving his hand a frail little squeeze.
"I implore you Garrett… Do not squander the child's boon. You were chosen for this task, not because you are fit for it, but because you are the only person capable." The old woman said calmly, sure and sincere, her words held weight, weight which settled over Garrett's shoulders.
"I have told you before… The balance has shifted." The Queen of Beggars murmured as she peered up at the thief before her, eyes pale as moonlight; "Life and death are merely the beginning and end… Intertwined throughout are growth and decay."
The old woman leaned closer, voice hardly above the wind which crept through the few remaining cracked and broken glass windows of the cathedral.
"The city is decaying Garrett… And I fear that finally, after so very long, we may all fall to the wayside of history." She patted his hand once, twice, before releasing him, sitting back in her seat with a tired sigh.
"You may very well be able to save Erin without the aid of the dead child…" The Queen admitted softly, peering over to Garrett with pale eyes that finally matched her age; "But only that child can free her from the prison she has found herself within."
Garrett grimaced at her words, knowing them to be true. But knowing the truth never made the truth any less bitter.
"Like it or not, you two are tied together in this mess. Unwillingly perhaps, but together all the same." The Queen of Beggars hummed, her head turning towards one of the many doorless awnings surrounding them. Garrett followed her gaze, seeing and hearing nothing, yet feeling something, the same strange sensation he had back at the foundry…
Eventually, footfalls began approaching, a beggar, the same young woman from before, reappeared, carrying with her a bundle of fabric, upon which sat, nestled in the center of the folds like something precious, another slab of bone which she passed not to the Queen, but to the thief.
"Lady Luck has blinded herself to this city's plight Garrett." The Queen of Beggars mused, "And in her absence, another has affixed their gaze solely upon you." She tilted her head towards the fabrics in the arms of her beggar.
"The very least you could do, if not for the city, then at least for your sister, is listen."
Garrett sighed, setting his cup of tea back onto the small side table before he reached out to take the beggar's offering. The fabric was smooth to the touch, light, with just the faintest of shimmer to it.
It could have easily fetched a pretty price on the market, enough at least to feed the whole congregation for a week. And yet they were gifting it to him.
Garrett made sure to flip a loose corner over the Rune, shielding it from touch.
"You would have done the foundry a kindness to burn it to the ground." The Queen sighed.
"I think the city has seen more than enough fire for a few lifetimes." Garrett pointed out bluntly.
The Queen merely smiled; "I most certainly have." She agreed.
Garrett drank his tea.