Walking back from the Red Dragon, Kacey didn?t stagger, but she was weaving enough for it to be noticeable to the casual observer. Once again she?d left off her dagger and wasn?t visibly armed at all. Reckless behavior when she had to pass through almost the entire length of West End to reach the shop. She?d actually halted at the crossroads just outside the district, the one that could have taken her to their house ? but the moment of indecision was brief before she turned away.
Hands shoved into her pockets, shoulders hunched under the battered brown leather, Kacey?s usual alertness was dulled by the bottle of scotch she had emptied. So she didn?t hear Bryce?s approaching ?anti-magic? patrol until they were just a few steps away. ?Lynne ? yer out late again. Enjoying yerself?? Bryce?s words were accompanied by a head-to-toe sweeping look, as if he was sizing her up.
The contralto chuckle of her answer came more easily under the influence of alcohol. ?Well enough for drinking mostly alone. Still patrolling?? Without motion to keep her halfway steady, Kacey leaned against the post of the nearest street lamp. Her crooked smile bore a slightly mocking edge, caution blurred by scotch.
?Should?a come and got me, sweetheart, I wouldn?t let ya drink alone like that. Yeah, we?re patrolling still. Every night, regular. Fact, we?re upping th? size after that,? here Bryce paused to spit on the cobbles, ?family slipped away. Who knows if they?ll be back here, where they don?t belong.? Jerking his head to the side, Bryce pointed out the two men across the street wearing similar ?Prop 37? buttons to the trio standing loosely around Kacey. ?Ya hear about that??
Rough pine crates were loaded onto the DeMuer wagons with extreme care. There weren?t obvious breathing holes in the wood, but the crates had apparently been sloppily built and there were gaps here and there between planks. ?Don?t worry, miss, I?ll make sure your cargo makes it safe to the Barony.? And with a tug of his forelock, the old wagoneer had cracked the reins and set the wagon into rumbling life up the road.
Kacilla shook her head. ?No ? which family?? It was hard to keep too much from slipping out; she?d had too much to drink.
?Th? Dennings.? A curt reply from one of the other patrol members before the man looked out into the dark again. His face screwed into a grimace. ?Faugh! Ya smell that??
The stench of rotting meat crawled on the apathetic breeze, stirred by the motion of the beggar limping his way toward the group. Kacey?s nose wrinkled and her stomach churned; the aftermath of too many battlefields to count swam in front of her eyes, and she had to close them. The beggar?s harsh croak of a voice cut through the patrol?s exclamations of disgust. ?Alms, alms for a poor leper!?
Breathing shallowly, through her mouth, Kacey opened her eyes and pulled free a few coins from her pocket. Bryce and his patrol had backed away from the diseased man already. ?Hey, ya leave her alone! Bothering respectable folk ? I?ll?.? Bryce?s voice trailed off; he wasn?t prepared to make a threat he would have to enforce by touching the man.
?No, it?s all right, Bryce. You?d better get back to keeping us all safe from the dangerous magic-folk, anyway.? The mocking note from her crooked smile slipped into her voice, her self-control considerably lessened by drink. It was fortunate that Bryce and his men were disturbed enough not to notice the slip. After a last look, the self-designated patrol hurried away.
Pushing away from the lamp-post, Kacey crossed the short distance to the beggar and dropped the coppers into his outstretched bowl. The hunched-over man looked up at her with piercing gray eyes which gleamed with concealed humor ? all that could be seen of the man?s face, with the rest wrapped in rags.
?The Lord?s blessings and safety on you, lady,? the beggar?s voice was still a harsh croak, with a slight lean on the word safety, but as he pulled back the bowl one of his sleeves slipped back far enough to show Kacey his inner forearm. A distinctive tattoo rode on the filthy skin, a quartered circle with a different symbol in each quarter.
Lop-sided though her smile in return was, it was far more sincere than the ones she?d offered Bryce just moments before. ?Thank you.? For the blessing, for his presence, for the well-timed interruption. With her hands back in her pockets, Kacey gave the beggar another of those crooked smiles and then resumed her weaving course back toward the woodworking shop.
((Cross-posted in Proposition 37))
Hands shoved into her pockets, shoulders hunched under the battered brown leather, Kacey?s usual alertness was dulled by the bottle of scotch she had emptied. So she didn?t hear Bryce?s approaching ?anti-magic? patrol until they were just a few steps away. ?Lynne ? yer out late again. Enjoying yerself?? Bryce?s words were accompanied by a head-to-toe sweeping look, as if he was sizing her up.
The contralto chuckle of her answer came more easily under the influence of alcohol. ?Well enough for drinking mostly alone. Still patrolling?? Without motion to keep her halfway steady, Kacey leaned against the post of the nearest street lamp. Her crooked smile bore a slightly mocking edge, caution blurred by scotch.
?Should?a come and got me, sweetheart, I wouldn?t let ya drink alone like that. Yeah, we?re patrolling still. Every night, regular. Fact, we?re upping th? size after that,? here Bryce paused to spit on the cobbles, ?family slipped away. Who knows if they?ll be back here, where they don?t belong.? Jerking his head to the side, Bryce pointed out the two men across the street wearing similar ?Prop 37? buttons to the trio standing loosely around Kacey. ?Ya hear about that??
Rough pine crates were loaded onto the DeMuer wagons with extreme care. There weren?t obvious breathing holes in the wood, but the crates had apparently been sloppily built and there were gaps here and there between planks. ?Don?t worry, miss, I?ll make sure your cargo makes it safe to the Barony.? And with a tug of his forelock, the old wagoneer had cracked the reins and set the wagon into rumbling life up the road.
Kacilla shook her head. ?No ? which family?? It was hard to keep too much from slipping out; she?d had too much to drink.
?Th? Dennings.? A curt reply from one of the other patrol members before the man looked out into the dark again. His face screwed into a grimace. ?Faugh! Ya smell that??
The stench of rotting meat crawled on the apathetic breeze, stirred by the motion of the beggar limping his way toward the group. Kacey?s nose wrinkled and her stomach churned; the aftermath of too many battlefields to count swam in front of her eyes, and she had to close them. The beggar?s harsh croak of a voice cut through the patrol?s exclamations of disgust. ?Alms, alms for a poor leper!?
Breathing shallowly, through her mouth, Kacey opened her eyes and pulled free a few coins from her pocket. Bryce and his patrol had backed away from the diseased man already. ?Hey, ya leave her alone! Bothering respectable folk ? I?ll?.? Bryce?s voice trailed off; he wasn?t prepared to make a threat he would have to enforce by touching the man.
?No, it?s all right, Bryce. You?d better get back to keeping us all safe from the dangerous magic-folk, anyway.? The mocking note from her crooked smile slipped into her voice, her self-control considerably lessened by drink. It was fortunate that Bryce and his men were disturbed enough not to notice the slip. After a last look, the self-designated patrol hurried away.
Pushing away from the lamp-post, Kacey crossed the short distance to the beggar and dropped the coppers into his outstretched bowl. The hunched-over man looked up at her with piercing gray eyes which gleamed with concealed humor ? all that could be seen of the man?s face, with the rest wrapped in rags.
?The Lord?s blessings and safety on you, lady,? the beggar?s voice was still a harsh croak, with a slight lean on the word safety, but as he pulled back the bowl one of his sleeves slipped back far enough to show Kacey his inner forearm. A distinctive tattoo rode on the filthy skin, a quartered circle with a different symbol in each quarter.
Lop-sided though her smile in return was, it was far more sincere than the ones she?d offered Bryce just moments before. ?Thank you.? For the blessing, for his presence, for the well-timed interruption. With her hands back in her pockets, Kacey gave the beggar another of those crooked smiles and then resumed her weaving course back toward the woodworking shop.
((Cross-posted in Proposition 37))