Page 32 of Inferno
He took a moment to compose himself, doing his best to put the dark thoughts out of his mind, then hurried up the stairs to find a clean set of clothes to wear. He took a shirt back down to the kitchen and had a hasty wash in cold water, then dressed and combed his hair. It was already five minutes past nine, so he did a quick tidy of the shop, then opened the curtain over the front window and turned the sign on the front door to ‘Open’.
The day was surprisingly busy, given the storm last night, and Yorin was kept occupied with several fittings, a couple of new orders, finalising the orders that were finished, and experimenting with a couple of new designs for a skirt. He wanted to do something original with pleats, but couldn’t quite work out how to get the fabric to do what the image in his head required.
Finally, it rolled around to three o’clock in the afternoon, and it occurred to Yorin that he hadn’t seen Nerik all day. Given the number of excuses he usually found to ‘just drop in’ – and that wasbeforethey’d started dating – he was a little startled to realise that Nerik hadn’t come around at all. He’d been anticipating sneaking back into the kitchen for a kiss or three, or perhaps even sharing a sandwich with Nerik for lunch. A quiet, dark part of his mind came up with the idea that Nerik had lost interest in him, now that they’d satisfied each other’s bodies this morning… but he quickly quelled the idea. Doris’s comments this morning were bound to have rattled him, and knowing how busy Nerik could be, it was far more likely that he’d just been caught up with a couple of urgent deliveries.
Then, another unwelcome part of his mind imagined Nerik lying unconscious in a ditch somewhere, having succumbed to some complication of his night out in the storm. He’d seemed fine that morning, but that didn’t mean the effects mightn’t show up hours later…
Okay, so he was being ridiculous and he knew it. The truth was that he simply wanted to see Nerik again, and he was feeling neglected because Nerik hadn’t magically been able to fit a pointless but entertaining tryst into the day.
Deciding he was too restless to stay indoors, Yorin packed up a bag of supplies and headed for the town square. This time of the cycle, the serving women would have little to do, which made it the perfect time to take some measurements ready to make a few new blouses to donate to the next festival when the gate closed. Despite his reservations about the warriors’ attitudes, he was still very aware of the role they played in protecting the city, and a certain amount of generosity was required to keep the whole system functioning.
But as Yorin was crossing the town square, he caught sight of Gosta, the old nurse, having what appeared to be a heated discussion with a patient outside the hospital, which was just across the street from the square. Knowing how well Nerik knew Gosta, there was a chance that the aging women might know where Nerik was.
Yorin changed direction and strode over, waiting at a respectful distance while Gosta finished explaining whatever it was she was talking about to her patient. In the end, the woman scowled, snatched a packet of herbs from Gosta’s hand, and stalked off.
“Excuse me? Gosta?” Yorin called, hoping the woman wasn’t intoobad of a mood. Even on the best of days, she never seemed to be particularly cheery.
“Hello, Yorin,” she said, sounding more tired than angry. Yorin considered asking whether anything had gone wrong, and then decided against it. Better to mind his own business where Gosta was concerned.
“Sorry to bother you, but I was just wondering if you’d seen Nerik around today? He said he’d drop into my shop, but he hasn’t come by.” He let Gosta assume that Nerik had been coming for a delivery, rather than for a more personal reason.
“You’d best keep your distance,” Gosta said, waving him back as he stepped closer to her. “We’ve got three patients in the hospital with Friday fever. Thank the gods, I seem to be immune to it – this’ll be the third time I’ve been exposed to it, and I’ve never got sick – but we’re trying as hard as we can to stop the spread.” Well, that explained why she was in a bad mood. And also answered the question from earlier in the week about the fever. Calium’s parents must have been some of the earliest cases.
“Okay, sorry,” Yorin said, stepping back.
“And yes, I saw Nerik,” Gosta added, before Yorin could say anything else. “I sent him out to take some herbs to Mr Morris. He lives on the road out to Azertel. A fair way out. I expect he’ll be back late.”
“Right. Okay, well, thank you, then.” It was both disappointing and reassuring news; Nerik wasn’t avoiding him, but the chances of seeing him today were slim.
Unless Yorin did something about that himself. Abandoning the idea of seeing the serving women, he changed direction and headed over to the bakery. It was late in the day, and their pastries wouldn’t be anything like as fresh and crispy as they were first thing in the morning, but they would still be delicious. So he would just pick up a couple of them and take them over to Nerik’s house. He wouldn’t assume he would be welcome to stay the night – though if Nerik invited him to, he’d certainly say yes – but it would be a nice surprise for Nerik, an afternoon treat before dinner… and if that led to other things, then Yorin certainly wouldn’t complain. Nerik’s house was in the same direction as Azertel, so it was entirely probable that Nerik would go straight home after his long delivery, rather than heading back into town for any more work.
Yorin hurried back to his shop, pastries tucked into his bag, and packed his usual satchel for travelling in the forest, along with the requisite knives for protection. In all his life, Yorin had never actually needed to use either of the knives, but he knew full well that the instant he didn’t take them, he’d suddenly desperately need them.
On his way out of the city, he reminded himself to not get his hopes up too much. Nerik had had a long journey, then an extremely rough night from being so cold, and then a busy day today. It was entirely possible that he would be too exhausted for any more pleasurable activities.
But maybe he’d let Yorin cook dinner for him?
Or maybe they could just share the pastries and kiss a bit, and then Yorin would go home and leave Nerik to get some rest. Even just that much would be a welcome end to the day.
Yorin was about three quarters of the way there, just approaching the turning off the main road onto the lane that led to Nerik’s cottage, when he heard shouting in the forest and the thud of heavy footsteps. Alarmed, he moved to the side of the road, putting his back to a thick beech tree and pulled the knife out of its sheath on his leg. He waited, hearing crashing through the undergrowth, the sound getting closer… though it seemed to be heading slightly to the north of him. Probably not bandits, he told himself, trying to slow his racing heart. If it was, they wouldn’t have been making anywhere near so much noise.
An argument, then? Or bandits chasing someone who was trying to run away?
Or a wild animal? Wolves, foxes and boars all roamed the forest… or maybe even a bear, though it was very rare to find one this close to town. That last thought made Yorin’s heart rate spike. He wasn’t sure which would be worse; bandits or a bear.
Then, up ahead, a group of warriors burst out of the undergrowth, spilling onto the road and pulling to a stop, and that was when Yorin realised there were worse things than bears in this forest. Every now and then, a demon got past the army and tried to make a run for it through the woods. He gripped his knife harder and backed up a couple of steps, bracing himself for a demon of some description to come leaping out of the ferns.
But the warriors seemed to be either lost or distracted, not noticing Yorin at all. They spread out, batting at the undergrowth with their swords, scanning the dirt and cursing at each other.
“Which way did the fucker go?” one of them asked.
“He was heading north-east,” another replied. “Check further up the road. Don’t worry boys, we’ll find him.”
A couple of the warriors headed north up the road, but then one near the rear glanced back and noticed Yorin.
“Oi! You there! What are you doing?” he shouted.
Before Yorin could reply, another man did it for him. “Eh, that’s Yorin, the tailor,” he said, and Yorin recognised him as Bril. Bril jogged over, while the other warriors searched the undergrowth for a sign of which way their prey had gone.