She would sleep for days. A deep, dreamless sleep only to wake and vaguely recall her life in bits and pieces.

If asked about the past week, she couldn't It was as hazy as the shore when a fog rolls in. There were snapshots though when the fog cleared and she was left standing in places. Lost and wondering how she ended up there in the first place. Holding items she had no idea what they meant, bruises and broken fingers from fights she did not remember. Sometimes she was alone. Sometimes she was with friends. Either way she was still lost.

For the moment though this had passed. The voices, their voices, had quieted to a dull roar. More dictation than actual action. Rekah was not worth her weight in gold to them if she couldn't stand. So, they loosened their grip to let her be herself for the time being.

But, it was never fully. She would still protect those pages and would slip into a waking coma if they thought their precarious position was threatened. They would then retreat back into the pages just to whisper their lies and false promises to her.

A father's return.
A great treasure.
A long journey.

Rekah was gullible, and wanted so desparately to believe.


"If it were not for hopes, the heart would break." -Thomas Fuller

She papered the city with them. Five hundred flyers, from the docks to the tech city, the marketplace to old town. Both sides of the river. Five hundred flyers proclaiming the discovery of two books.

Too slow, Sinjin had remarked. You'll never find what you're looking for in time. But what else could she do? She had to try. She had to do something.

Mir had been about to offer a trade. Maybe Ali had sensed that, seen them both slipping through his hands like sand and grief. He'd dragged her screaming from the inn before she could utter the words.

Whoever watched from behind Rekah's eyes had agreed, at least to let her sleep, let her eat. If this goes wrong, Mrs. al-Amat, I will hold you responsible. Let him. It bought her time to think, at least.

Sinjin had encouraged her to try bargaining again. Try to gain more time. Logically, Grace might be able to survive what would destroy Rekah. If she uttered the words to the unbinding spell, if the books would allow her to read the words, would she survive? She'd been through worse. But it wasn't something she would do without talking to Ali; and she was certain he would never agree.

Five hundred flyers. Contact Fionna Helston, Red Dragon Inn. Maybe she'd get lucky.

You never knew.

Rekah's note couldn't have been sitting there for very long. Missie had been ranging through the apartment, bored and wanting something interesting to do for ever so long - since before the sun came up!

Ali was snoring, sprawled over the bed on his stomach and it was only fun for so long to sneak peeks of his butt under the sheets or to pinch his nose holes shut to hear him snort. He didn't wake up when she did this, so he must have been out very late last night after he wumpa'd Grace to sleep.

She visited the cat lady in the other room, and they had a very interesting chat. She even listened to Missie sing the songs she'd been learning from Ernesto and Julio, the buskars who wanted her to travel with them so she could help sing and earn money for beers. The cat lady liked the song about the Irishman with poxie doxie very well, and nodded her head in time to Missie's twirling dance as she sang the song. That's probably where she was when Rekah left her message.

She opened it and looked at the crabbed print with squinty eyes. She couldn't really read, but Rekah's notes usually meant fun, and fun usually started at the docks. She chewed her lip for a minute, pocketed the button and thread (you never knew when either might come in handy on an adventure!) and peered down the hallway toward the room where Ali's snores sang their contented song.

Dante followed her as she ran into Rekah's room and grabbed one of the crayons out of the box on the dresser. A red crayon - her favorite color. Flipping Rekah's note over, she scribbled a drawing on the back so Ali would know she'd gone with Rekah, and where she'd gone. Of course, the drawing was a chicken, but she was certain he would know that chickens are the most fun ever and so was Rekah's adventures! Then she skittered to the kitchen - Dante hard on her heels - and put the drawing where he was sure to find it, chicken-side up, on the counter by the coffee thing.

"You stay here, Dante, and tell Ali where I went. I'm not sure he can read," she confided seriously. Dante wagged his tail and went to slurp water from his bowl. She took it as assent, so she bent over and kissed his head. "Good doggie. Don't fly around and break anything while I'm gone."

And with that admonition, she slipped quietly out the door so as not to wake Ali and Siva, trotted down the four flights of stairs (making a face and sticking her tongue out as she passed Alfred's basement window - tradition, now), and broke into a run, heading west toward the docks.

"Wait for me, Rekah! Wait for me!"


(Continued in Peccavi)

She sat with her legs tucked up under her and Dante beside her. One of the books opened up before her on the bed. A fingertip was pressed to the page and she looked mildly alarmed.

"Dante, this book does not have a good story. And they are mean."

This was upsetting. And she was catching on to their manipulations. She knew when she was being shut out and down, for one to slide into control. It wasn't as if she enjoyed it. Those times were a dark, dreamless sleep and she would wake up. Afraid. And in possession of things that had no importance to her.

This moment was hers though.
__________________________________________________

The thing about Solomon was that while he may be a trusted employee. He also tended to drag his feet on things Radamir found to be most important. He lacked the drive and the understanding about the tomes and thier instability. He also lacked the knowledge that Radamir knew their secret and held the key to a girl's freedom.

Perhaps, if he knew this he would have made a greater effort to set a meeting.

He could,however, be found at the World's End Tavern where he spent the majority of his time drinking away his woes. If Radamir knew this, Solomon would be out of a job and his head.

As it were Solomon was a difficult man to find and to motivate. But, at one point he had been searching for Rekah. So, all places she had been. He had been.

And, Trina's Cupcake Bar was one of Rekah's favorite places.

________________________________________________

Trina's Cupcake Bar

The bakery sat on a corner on the outskirts of the main town. The building was well cared for, outside of some peeling paint here and there. It seemed a perfectly cheerful place. Pink shutters, pink and purple striped curtain peeked through the windows. The door, too was painted pink. On it hung a sign that read "Trina's Cupcake Bar. Welcome. Please take off your shoes." And there was a shoe cubby by the door.

However, once that door opened the sweet smell of cake batter and icing would be the first to assault the senses. The second would be the splatter painting of the walls, pinks, purples, blues and spats of white and black for texture. Snowflake christmas lights draped lazily across the ceiling and flickered. There were tables and chairs, a couch and some pillows in one of the corners. A sign there read "This place has gone to the dogs."

There was the display counter, glass shielding the cupcake delights from hands, and germs alike. It soon became your normal counter with an old fashioned register that chimed when opened. Trina ran the place by herself. So, she was either in the back baking or up front serving customers.

The place was never very busy, but she always managed to sell out of cupcakes.

Trina was in her late forties. Bleached blonde hair, green eyes that always smiled and crinkled when really happy. She was of average height and build, meaning that she didn't indulge in her wares as much as one would think. And more often than not she would be wearing a pink dress, with a white frilly apron that was usually splattered with icing and batter. She was welcoming, outgoing and loved to gossip.

It was no wonder Rekah loved this place.

You weren't allowed to wear shoes, it was pink and they served cupcakes.

Trina knew Dante's bark. Mainly because he barked everytime Rekah brought him in. So, she wasn't as quick to get to the front counter.

"Rekah, first things first: wash yer hands before you go touching anything. And, I'll give ya some food in a second. I just have to finish whipping up some icing. Give yer puppy some water I can hear him panting from here!"

The clanking of metal against metal started once more, though that paused a second time.

"And when ya get yer hands washed bring me the stack of washcloths off the counter. Thanks, lovey!"

Ali had already seen the sign and bent to begin the task of getting his boots off when Mireille gave her instructions and sauntered away. He looked after her, bemused and amused; then down at his boots, the laces disappearing under his cargo pants to run halfway up his calves, and sighed. Barbarian, indeed.

When he?d gotten them unlaced and safely cubbied several minutes later, he looked up again and discovered the trio of women disappeared. He and Dante were alone. He flexed his toes and limped in his sock feet over to the hound.

?Well, old boy,? he said to the dog, whose tail flapped twice, ?it looks like it?s just you and me.? There was a bowl set aside specifically for such purposes as watering?any pets? This particular dog? How many times had the hound been here? He tried to get a general idea, but gave up after losing count several times.

Over the sound of the water furling into the bowl, he could hear the conversation of female voices, hear a whisk clacking against metal. They had to be somewhere nearby. Dante got his water, and Ali followed the voices?and the smells!?to their source.