Sable Vorn's Arc

Chapter 5 of 8

Sable stood at the tower's gap with her new map rolled tight. The wolf paced below, nose lifted toward her sleeve. The glow had climbed past her elbow now. Cloth could not hide it. The moment she stepped out, the nose would find her, and it would follow her to the marked place. Gandalf pressed his palm to the cold stone. "We can't wait it out," he muttered, low and doubled, as if two men argued in one throat. "It won't tire before you do." Sable looked past him. A woman sat against the inner wall, knees drawn up, gold hoops catching the faint light. Therisia. Sable's stomach turned. Years ago this woman had smiled, offered her a fair trade, then read the fine print fast and taken more than she gave. Sable had rewritten her broken contract only days ago, here in this tower. She had hoped never to owe her again. "You want the beast gone," Therisia said. Her smile came too wide. "I want off this floor before that hunter comes back. Trade me. I know these reeds." "What do you take?" Sable asked. "A day of your map work when we're clear. Written plain. No tricks." She held out her clipboard. "Read every line yourself." Sable read it twice. The words held. She signed. Therisia rose and pointed at a rotted stalk poking through a wall crack. Its head was dark and swollen, red threads bristling from the seed. "Marsh cattail. Crush the head. The smell buries every scent, even yours. Even the glow's pull, for a while." Sable tore the stalk free. The head crumbled wet in her fist. A thick, sour reek climbed her arm. She smeared the paste along her sleeve, over the glow, down to her wrist. Gandalf pulled the staff from the door timber. "Now, girl. While it holds." Sable slipped through the gap. The wolf's head snapped up. It lunged two steps, then stopped. Its nose worked the air. It turned in a tight circle, lost. The glow still shone through her sleeve, but the stench drowned the trail. The wolf backed away, whined, and slunk into the reeds. The scraping of its claws faded. Sable breathed out. Her hands shook. "It worked." "For tonight," Therisia said, already climbing down. "The paste dries. The smell fades by morning. You have hours, no more." Sable unrolled her map and found the fork she had inked from the tower top. The channel bent north toward the far shelter. She had a path now, and a mask over her glow. But the mark still climbed her arm, and the wolf still lived in the reeds, waiting for the reek to thin. She stepped into the water and started walking. Behind her, Therisia followed with her clipboard, and the debt Sable had signed traveled with them.