Victor Rosevale's Arc

Chapter 8 of 18

Victor came down out of the eastern trees at dusk with Sable in his arms. The Mosswood gate stood open and unmanned. He did not stop to think about who should have been standing where he used to stand. He carried her through the lanes to their small house at the edge of town, unlatched the door with his elbow, and laid her on the bed. She was awake but pale. He propped her bad leg on a folded blanket and pulled the quilt to her waist. The closed wound looked like a pink seam under the bandage. Clean. Holding. "Thank you so much baby. Water please," she said. He brought a cup from the pitcher and held it while she drank. Her free hand found his wrist and stayed there. "You have to go," she said. "The tavern." "I know. I’ll be back my love." He kissed her lips. Sable nodded once and closed her eyes. Her fingers slid off his wrist. He banked the fire, set the bolt on the door from the inside of the back window, and left through it. The tavern sat two lanes over, its loft window lit yellow above the sloped shingles. Green and red shutters framed the lower windows. He had walked past it a hundred times in uniform. Tonight he wore road dirt and a spear he left leaning outside the door. Inside, the room was full. Farmers at the long tables. A card game near the hearth. He did not know who he was looking for. Marina had not told him. He had a name and a line, and a room of strangers. He stepped up onto the bench by the door so his voice would carry. Heads turned. He said the name clearly, once. Then he said the sentence. The room did not go quiet the way he expected. Most people looked at him, decided he was drunk or mad, and looked away. Cards resumed. A woman laughed at something at her own table. But at the far end of the bar, a man in a dark coat set down his cup, stood up, and walked out through the side door without paying. He did not look at Victor as he passed. He did not need to. He pushed back out into the lane and picked up his spear. The man in the dark coat was already gone between the houses, moving toward the gate Victor used to guard. Victor turned the other way, toward home where his wife sleeps. He had paid the mermaid.