“No, um, can you please just point the way? I am sure I can find it,” I say, knowing full well where I am going. He points to the right of the ship and tells me directions that I can’t hear over the pounding of my heart. Slowly, I step down the plank, nervous sweat seeping from my every pore when my feet hit the solid ground at the bottom. I take a deep breath, square my shoulders, and head in the direction Erik indicated.
It takes me only a few minutes to reach the correct street — brothels and taverns are never located too far from the docks, after all. Tucked into the middle of the street between two infamous Houses is a small apothecary. With the lists in hand, I step through the door into the dim interior. A short man behind the counter glances up as the bell rings over my head, and his eyes widen at my fine attire. I don’t look like the usual customers he sees on this street.
“Good afternoon, my dear,” he asks, fiddling with the spectacles he wears over cloudy eyes as I approach the counter. He is balding and his clothes are shabby and patched. “How may I help you?”
“I need these items, please.” I pass the two pages across the counter to him. He looks vaguely discomfited by the stains on my list, but begins to pull jars from the shelves and fill labeled bags and bottles at once. I wipe my sweaty palms down the front of my dark dress and try not to fidget while he readies my order, but I can’t stop myself from nervously glancing out the front glass as I wait. I haven’t been to this town since I fled, and I hope to avoid seeing any other reminders of my life here. Through the cloudy glass, a familiar shape retreats into one of the larger Houses across the way.
Captain Lennox.
At the sight of his familiar form, all nervousness vanishes, replaced with jealousy and anger at the sight. The Captain has yet to take advantage of my services, for which I am grateful, so why do I feel jealous of the idea that someone else might service him? Perhaps I am too old for his tastes, and he merely needed a healer on board. But then, the amount he paid for me is entirely too high compared to what he could have hired an actual physician for. The mild shopkeep snaps me out of my disordered thoughts when he clears his throat.
“Anything else, my dear?” he asks me kindly, handing me my lists and a package full of herbs. I am not used to being spoken to in gentle tones like this and catch myself smiling at the man as I hand him his coin.
“No, thank you, sir,” I reply as I take my change and turn toward the door.
“Watch yourself alone on these streets, Miss. Even though it’s been a while, it’s still not safe for your kind,” he says softly behind me. I turn to look over my shoulder at him and find him smiling sadly.
He raises his gnarled index finger and taps lightly between his eyebrows, indicating the place where my sigil rests, before he bows his head to me. My lips tighten into the barest of a smile in thanks as I nod and pull up the hood of my cloak in response to his warning. I take a calming breath, deeply inhaling the comforting herbal aroma of the shop before I reach the door and step onto the cobblestones beyond.
A part of me — the irrational part — wants to enter the dark door of the brothel I saw Captain Lennox walk through earlier. Curiosity to find out who he has decided is worth his coin, and his body, mixes with fury, but I know I’m being a fool, and turn to head back to the docks. I can sort the new herbs into their containers before we set sail again.
Passing one of the many dark alleys along the street, a faint whisper brings me up short and my blood runs cold.
“Nerissa?”
It can’t be. It’s this town messing with your mind, keep walking.
But the faint voice comes once more, and I cannot make my feet move. I turn toward the alley, toward the whisper of the past.
“Nerissa? Is that you, sweet girl?”
An older woman huddles in a pile of rags in the mouth of the alley. I wouldn’t have even noticed she was a human at the clip I was walking without looking closely. As I look down at her, I swallow back the bile that rises in my throat. Her hair is brittle and streaked with grey, bruises mar her lined face, and she is missing several teeth. But the faded sigil on her brow is unmistakable. This is the face of the fate I ran from years ago; the promised future that drove me to the House of Starlight instead of staying in the streets.
“Priestess Amaya,” I choke on my tears as I crouch down and reach to touch the woman’s familiar face. Tears cloud her eyes as she clutches my hand to her damaged cheek.
“Oh, I knew it was you, child! I knew it wasn’t a vision,” she cries to me. I have no words. Nothing to say that will ease her suffering. “Have you wed, then? Found someone to save you from this fate?”
“I… no… not exactly.” Shame and sorrow wash over me. I can’t tell my elder the truth. That I am a whore that just happened to run to the right doorway instead of suffering in the streets as she has. That I fled instead of standing with my sisters when the soldiers ransacked our temple. “Oh, Amaya. Are you all right? How can I help you?”
“Seeing you, and knowing there is hope for some of us, is enough.” She glances up at me with her broken smile, and I remember the purse of coins I still have, retrieving it from my pocket and pressing it into her hand.
“Here, Amaya. Please, take this and find a place to stay… to get warm for the evening.” I still clutch her hand when heavy footsteps approach from behind me.
“Is this creature bothering you, Mistress?” the stranger’s rough voice asks, and I freeze. I haven’t shown my face, but I realize that my clothes mask who, and what, I am. This man thinks I am a respectable woman who stumbled onto the wrong street. I barely turn to look over my shoulder and see the uniform of one of the King’s soldiers. I can’t control the trembling that begins immediately.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t think.
If he sees my brow he will know what I am.
I whisper over my shoulder, “No, sir. Thank you. I was just offering comfort to the less fortunate.” I stand, praying that he doesn’t see the distress written in the tension of my body, and keep my back to him.
“Do you require assistance, Mistress? To find your way to a safer part of town?” He continues to speak to me, even though I have not turned to face him.
“No, thank you. I see where I am going.”
I force my feet to move, roughly brushing the tears that have escaped off my cheeks. If I look back and see the man, I am done. When I pass another shop, then two, I allow myself to look behind me. The soldier stands confused near the entrance of the alley, staring at my retreating form. I round the corner and begin to run. I don’t know where I am running to, but I cannot be here.