Exact Words (Noven)

[Nathaniel Ankah]

25th Day of Spring, 509AV
Sunset Quarters
4th Bell

When things change, it isn't in the space of an instant. Even in a world chock full of magic and meddling gods and mages, the mind remains the same, in many ways. It needs time for adjustment. Time to process what it's seeing and formulate a response to it; not just for the moments that follow it, but for the days and years that will follow. Because some things are so reality-shifting that the mind has to do such a thing... and will do it, whether your soul wants to accept it or not.

That's what Nate would remember with such grieving horror, years later.That awful, sickening, helpless, paralyzing realization. Enlightenment courtesy of the worst kind of sadist. There was the horror of the moment, the stunning, stifling shock that stilled every limb-

-then he saw her-

-and the world changed. And he was in the middle of it.

"KAY?!"

The bottle fell from his hand and he didn't even hear it smash. He was scrambling down next to her before it had even hit the ground, but not touching her, hands wavering over her, hovering uncertainly like he was some sort of broken Konti.

"Na... Na..."

She looked like she'd been fifteen rounds with an Akalak. Rampaged over by a pack of Yuks. Slapped on a giant wooden board and beaten with the world's largest meat tenderizer. More of here skin was purple and blue and black and split and weeping blood than not. He saw hideous white flashes of blood glistening in the chasms.

"Oh... oh n-no..."

His voice broke. His hands went to the sides of his head and he panted like a dying man. He didn't know what to do. Well, no, that's not entirely accurate: he knew what he should do. But doing it? Getting up, leaving her, using anything but his tear ducts at that moment?

It as all too much.

"Nate..."

She pushed the words painfully from between swollen, puffy lips. Nathaniel's hand finally found hers as she smiled and the tears just would not stop. Her agony was unbearable enough; seeing that beautiful smile still on her face, just at the sight of him...

He had never felt so unworthy in his life.

"Kay..." He managed to gasp out finally, lips working around his options before deciding the best course was simply: "We've got to get you to a healer."

Something howled in the twenty-six-year-old's chest, demanding a name, a description, anything that he could use to rush into the morning darkness and rip apart the one who'd done this. But he quashed it, beat it back because it couldn't help her right now. Only a sawbones could.

"I... I tried..."

"Shhh..." Nate managed to choke out, sliding his beefy arms under her back and her knees, "Don't, love. Save it. Need to get you to-"

"He was... so young... Nate... like you were..."

Again his soul howled, and again Nate muzzled it. Vengeance would have to wait. Though as he picked his way through the wreckage of her room, his eyes did fall on the dented, bloody trying pan next to the door. His pace stalled for a tick as he put it together...

She tried again. Tried to be nice to some rate who broke in, just like she did with me. Only this time...

"Nate..."

He lumbered through the smashed crockery without looking at any of it. He knew her stash of coins would be gone... her old, faded silver earrings she was so proud of, too. But none of that mattered: Nate had his own gold, his weapons to trade, blood to give, if that was what he had to pay.

The street watched with invisible, curious eyes as Big Nate staggered out with the woman who was as a mother to him clutched in his arms. Within a chkme candles were lit in windows, and the beggars were jabbering excitedly to each other. What a do, eh? Old Kayleah. Bad business, oh, indeed...

News traveled fast on the streets, warped by rumor though it always was. Nate did his nest to outstrip it, stomping down the black cobbles with bleary eyes, weapons clanging and Kay groaning, heading for a man who knew more of pregnant horses than crippled women, but was his best hope at that hour.

Provided he wasn't drunk, of course.

[Noven]

He stared at the peeling wall where he'd once, in typical, youthful foolishness, repasted a stolen poster for some wanted felon or other. It had seemed wicked in a grown up, manly sort of way then. Staring into the eyes of a dangerous criminal each morning, convincing himself he was strong enough to take on what was essentially a dead man whenever he felt the urge.

It did nothing but fuel his rage now.

He'd mauled that picture to shreds by now. The man depicted wasn't the killer he wanted, he knew, but he'd attacked the piece of paper as if it was. The only thing keeping him from taking down the entire wall was the strongest and strictest of promises to old Calyn not to destroy her property. That, and the ever present voice of dignity and reason in his head, now and forever in the guise of Nona's heart-achingly familiar tones. It told him not to act like a child and to honor his promises. So he didn't, and did.

In truth, he couldn't sully the cramped, dusty old room. Couldn't work up the will, even in his most volatile of guilt and hate ridden moments, to ruin the only place he had ever called home. Calyn had tried to convince him to move to another part of Sunset after Nona's murder. Said it would help him heal, cause him less grief if he wasn't surrounded by memories of her all night and day. But the young, broken man would have none of it. All the family he ever remembered having had been taken from him in a single, swift stroke. He'd never learned much about letting go, and so he didn't. He kept it all as close to his heart as possible, hoarding the memories like they were worth more than mizas.

And in turn nourishing the hateful vengeance that now ruled his very existence.

"Noven, dear," came the weathered yet firm voice of his landlady. "Have you finished your breakfast?"

He looked over at the tray of food, likely cold from bells of neglect. It took a moment for him to work up his voice. A couple of coughs later, he replied, "Yes, Calyn. I have. Thank you, it was very good."

Something like a disapproving tut resounded from the other side of the door.

"Don't be lying to me, boy. I know you too well for any of that horse shyke. Now eat your breakfast. You've got a long day ahead of you."

Nov's brow furrowed in confusion. "A long day...?"

The silence that followed got him worried enough to rise to his feet and open the door. "What is is? What's wrong? Is it one of the children again?"

"No," the old proprietress sniffed, looking up at him with glistening, rheumy eyes. "It's not that, but you are sweet for always asking. No, this is about something much more complicated..."

Calyn looked down, dabbed her eyes on her worn apron, and cleared her throat. "It's Kay. She's been robbed and injured, and Nate has been seen storming down the streets, carrying her in his arms like she might not make it past the night."

Nov almost swore under his breath, but one penetrating glare from the old woman made his mouth clamp shut.

"And what am I to do with this?"

Not even bothering to answer, Calyn shoved a basket in his hands. "I know you've had your fair share of bitter days this past year, but this is no time to be thinking about old wounds. One of the few decent people in this city needs our help and I won't be leaving her out to hang just because of some silly business you two lumpheads had with a good for nothing lass more than five years ago!"

The old woman's chest was heaving and Noven had visibly flinched back from the passion of her words. He felt compelled to correct her, that it wasn't just about a girl, that it had been much more of a mess than that. But what was the use? She was right, as always. If it was a matter of life and death, now wasn't really the time to be licking old wounds.

Nov sighed. "Alright, so what do you want me to do. Take this to them? I don't even know where they are."

Calyn hurumphed. "That's two lies in one day, boy. Now go."

Harboring no desire to argue with his last remaining caretaker, the young man nodded sheepishly. He gobbled down his lukewarm breakfast and made his way out of Sunset, basket in hand.

It was petching heavy. Knowing his landlady, it was probably packed in a way that he couldn't re-pack even if he gave his best efforts.

Well, there was only one place Nate would take Kay. And judging from the way all the locals were huddled together, whispering amongst themselves as if some giant of a man had just lumbered his way past them with an injured woman in his arms, Nov was headed in the right direction. He wasn't sure what he'd do after delivering the basket. Hadn't even thought that far.

"Petch me," Nov muttered under his breath.

[Nathaniel Ankah]

Efrum Stane wiped the last of the vomit from his lips and managed to straighten up from the basin. Ruddy cheeks covered in bristling red hair met his gaze in the dirty mirror, along with red-rimmed eyes-

-that snapped wide as hen's eggs when he noticed the looming form behind him-

-and felt something sharp, just below his ribs, angled upward towards...

Yeah. That. The thing racing like a petching rabbit.

"That was the third time. Do it again, and I'll..."

Nate wanted to finish. He had a dozen threats, promises, curses, creative little tortures given words that could have made the horse doctor cooperate. But reality was battering at him again, telling him that he could kill the man... but then, who would take care of her?

Fortunately, Efrum was way too hungover to think all that through.

"Y-Yes, of c-course!"

"Get back to work."

Efram did, such as it was, and as he knew. His hands were steadied only by the prospect of what the trembling man in the corner of his store would do if he failed to help... Kay, wasn't it? Already gold had been pressed into him, coins tinkling and rolling between his fingers, more money than he could make in a month, and he wasn't about to ask from where.

The towering brute who'd presented them bore the ink of gangers and death-seekers all Sunberth over. Butchery-for-hire, theft, whoring, extortion, smuggling... who knew? Not Efrum, and he was going to keep it that way.

But he hadn't expected the man to be so... changeable. One chime he was hunched over on the stool, rocking back and forth, elbows on his knees, palms pressed together until the knuckles whitened, whispering prayers to gods he despised. The next he would snap questions, throw something, break something else, before collapsing back into near-catatonia.

It wasn't the most pleasant working environment, but... well, he had been well-paid.

He did what he could, which was pretty much what he'd do to wounded horses. By the light of flickering candles, still sputtering in their little tombs of wax, he bathed and treated the horrors wrought upon Kayleah Ankah. He winced when she did, unused and not numb to the suffering of his patients like more... human-oriented physicians.

"Shhh..." He said one more time, patting her sweaty brow, now bandaged and already stained. "Not much longer, I promise."

Nate was rocking again. He couldn't take his eyes off Kay as she resembled less a battered animal and more a makeshift mummy. Swathes of her body had been cleansed with stinging oils he could not name, then bandaged or supported with splints and crutches wound with bandages... including both her legs.

"Her..." He managed to rasp the word. Efrum had to make sure he wasn't about to puke before realizing he was trying to speak. The giant swallowed hard and managed to choke out. "She... Can she... When will she walk?"

Efrum really wished people would stop treating him like an actual doctor. Bring him an ornery mule or a mare with green dung or a cow with a gimpy leg, and he was your man. But a woman? What did people think the picture of a horse over his store was about?!

Not that he was about to spew all that at Nate, of course. He wanted to live to see his breakfast.

"Sir... the way her legs were broken... well, they weren't just broken. I've seen horses like that before, they were shattered-"

"She's not a horse-"

"No." Efrum said, surprised even as he continued that he'd found at least one testicle in his breeches. "She's weaker. Her bones are more brittle. Whoever... did this to her, he... he was thorough. He broke both her legs in multiple places. Her left knee is... well... if you want to amputate-"

"Do you have to?"

"Well, no, but-"

"No."

"... understood."

No sound but Efrum's softly shuffling feet, Kay's labored breathing and the hissing... smoldering suck-and-push of Nate's own lungs. Efrum felt the tension bubbling in the man, the way his eyes stayed wide and focused on nothing. Not even the woman.

He'd seen that gaze before. It seemed so intense, so intent and focused... but it was all inside. Inverted. Nate was looking at his own personal horror reel right now, and Efrum was glad he couldn't see it.

You should have been there. What did you think would happen?

Gotta find him. Find him and gut him. Ride him. Split his face open with my own hands and throw him to the sodomites outside the Slag Fire.

She shouldn't look like that. She was a dancer. She can't dance now.

Because of you.

You failed her.

All you had to do was be there. All the nights you chose to go drinking... and this was the one that mattered.

He moved fast for a big man, Efrum gave him that. With a rumble that sounded like thunder under a stew pot, Nate hurtled across the room and with a full-body heave-

"Oh... fuck me..."

Whatever Nate had been drinking that night, it stank something awful. Stung worse coming back up, too. He barely felt it. His throat was scrubbed raw by a tide of vomit and all he could see was her face, bruised and pulped, her shattered spindles of legs...

Nate's whole body quivered and Efrum turned away before he could see the encore. His patient still needed him. Huh. Curious. He atually liked the sound of that. The thought of treating patients who could talk back, wore clothes and didn't eat his table clothes was... strangely edifying.

Maybe you should try and hitch it to Zel, get that training you always said you'd finish-

Then the door rattled with steady, heavy knocks and Efrum rolled his eyes. Didn't they know there was medicine being practiced here?! Savages!

"Coming, coming!" He washed his hands in the already-bloody water and dried them off as best he could. "But I'm busy, so you'll have to make it-"

Nate looked over as the door opened. Five years. Fives years with naught but guarded, frosty glances exchanged on the street (opposite sides, naturally), and never even the thought of anything else. Five years for wounds to heal or remain festering... and probably the latter. Five years of "gods, I should have" and "if I could do it again, the little cunt"...

Five years and Noven saw him bent over a toilet with drool on his chin and puke on his lips and tears in his eyes, shirt soaked in the blood of the only person in the world he loved.

"... fuckin' 'ells..."

Efrum's eyes flickered back and forth until his brusque "ahem!" snapped Noven's attention over. "And you are...?"

[Noven]

He'd gotten there without issue. Faster than anticipated and no sudden rain or riot or attempted theft of the blatantly stuffed basket to hinder his progress. A smooth, uneventful trip by all accounts. Lucky for a city rife with so much hardship. Even so, he found himself standing outside of the peeling door, debating whether or not to go in.

After Nona's death, everything had shrunk in the presence of his limitless grief. The gaping hole where his caretaker once occupied was all he could think about most nights and days. Food tasted like ash. Ale, like the piss shyke that it was, though he guzzled it to oblivion anyway. Brothels...only Isme could offer a brief delusion of comfort. And even then the once glorious establishments of dim-lit pleasure held nothing but guilt and regret for him now.

His sorrow gutted him. Bled him out until he felt he had shriveled up into nothing, and in more ways than one. He just couldn't get his mind off of it no matter what he did or where he went. Those torturous thoughts and feelings followed him everywhere like a vengeful ghost and though he tried his best to shut it out, it always seemed to find him, invading his awareness whilst wearing a guise of Nona's bloodless face.

Honestly, in the face of so much pain, what did some disagreement or other between him and Nate five years ago matter? A part of him jerked defensively in denial, but that was more out of habit than anything else.

In the end of course Nov surrendered to Calyn's wishes. He'd never hear the end of it if he didn't and that keen old woman would know in a heartbeat if he was lying. Besides, Kay had always been kind to him. She was one of three souls in this gods forsaken city who ever seemed to give a rat's ass about him and the least he could do was show up with this basket.

Heaving a sigh, the young man rapped noisily on the door and waited.

There was a voice on the other end and when the door opened, he couldn't help but stare.

Noven held no awareness of the fourth person in the room. He had eyes only for Nate and the horrific visage of a battered woman in the midst of being treated. Didn't take a second glance to figure out it was poor Kay underneath those livid wounds. He could tell even through all the bruises and bandages and splints swathed around her body like some bizarre, half formed coccoon.

"Fuck," Nov breathed, the pits of his stomach riling with revulsion and anger at the senseless beating Kay had clearly endured. Nothing got him more wrathful these days than dickless scum preying on the innocent and weak.

He took another breath to steady himself, flexing his left hand beneath a layer of worn leather as crimsom veins throbbed in response to his ire. "Krysus, Nate...this is...will she even..."

"Oh, she'll live," came the annoyingly unfamiliar voice of Efrum. "Tough one, she is, but her legs...not much hope in saving them, what with the way they were shattered...without amputation...who knows..."

The man lost his chain of thought for a moment before snapping his attention back to the newest addition. "Wait, who are you exactly again?"

Nov glowered at the horse doctor viciously enough to make the babbling man flinch. "I'm an old acquaintance," he answered testily and without hesitation. "As is Calyn from Sunset. She wanted me to deliver this basket. Thought Nate and Kay might need it after all they'd been through last night."

As expected, Efrum made no move to protest. He wasn't exactly a strong fellow and looked instead toward Nate to gauge the larger man's reaction. Was this stranger friend or foe? His client would tell.

"And what the fuck you lookin' at him for?" Nov growled with palpable venom. "She needs help. Fix her, or we're using your legs for her crutches."

Efrum made something of a wheeze of agreement and went straight back to work.

Frowning at the resumed scene of frantic doctoring, Nov took a seat by Nate. He wasn't exactly ready to make amends or whatever the petch it was people did. But, at least, some peace could be made in consideration of Kay's critical state.

Seeing how the older man was covered in several shades of wretchedness, most of which resided in his tortuous, all too familiar expression of self-loathing, Nov decided it best to leave the basket on an adjacent stool. He ignored the powerful stench of Nate's current misery as best he could and struggled to think of something to say. Wasn't easy, all things considered.

"Some warm bread in there to ease the stomach," he suggested awkwardly, unsure of how to even begin a proper greeting after so many estranged years.

[Nathaniel Ankah]

He was aware of Noven there, but... it didn't seem relevant. Or real. Of all the faces that could have been at the door, that boyish face with hard eyes was the last he would have guessed. The couple of years since they'd rather explosively gone their separate ways had been... unkind.

Nate had heard about Nona. He'd been too stubborn and too drunk and surrounded by friends that weren't worth a pint of Noven's piss to even show he cared. He just shrugged it off.

Sunberth for you. It kills people. All the time.

But now Noven was there, and bearing gifts to boot. Nate's hand numbly fumbled under the basket's cover, finding a crusty loaf. He broke off a hunk and stared at it. Calyn. She always made such fine bread. It whispered to you when you squeezed it, crunched and sighed. Kay always said the woman should save herself the stress and become a baker, but then who would take care of the children?

He stared at it with dull, dead eyes. Finally he put it down.

"Not hungry..."

They sat in silence as the cowed horse doctor plied his trade as best he could. He gave Kay some sickly-sweet solution that had her softly sleeping, face so serene under her bruises that Nate covered his mouth to hide his lips twisting in grief and horror.

Such things shouldn't happen to hearts so kind. And yet, the gods allow it... just one more reason to hate the bastards.

"She won't lose the legs."

He finally spoke in a tone as leaden as his eyes; perhaps a little louder than necessary, just to ram the point home to Efrum. But when he continued, it was almost as a dirge, that eerie, pedantic monotone of one not quite believing what he's saying.

"Some kid... some kid broke into the house, and she tried to..." He cleared his throat and rummaged through the basket with renewed intensity, shoving aside vegetables and loafs and rolls and things not in bottles. "Tried to do what she did with me... y'know? Kid played nice and waited and then he..."

Nate didn't have the words. He just gestured over to the table without looking at it, strangled little cry coming from his mouth as he pulled an amber bottle from the basket.

"Fuck me, thank you, Calyn-"

The last word was more of a gurgle, drowned by the booze as he uncorked it with his teeth and upturned it. It flowed down his throat, down his chin, one ravenous chug-a-lug as if it was medicine to a dying man or water to the parched.

Like it was anaesthetic; balm that numbed him. Made it all go away in a haze of swirling, foggy inebriation.

He would have taken the lot had Noven not ripped it from his hands.

Efrum heard the scuffle between the two young toughs and feared the worst. His piggy eyes went wide and his instruments stilled, watching with frozen concern over his patient.

The big man, eyes flashing, band balled into a fist-

The younger man, ah, what would his reaction be... but it didn't matter. The big man lowered his hand slowly, indignation draining from him as if staying angry was just too fucking exhausting for him. Broad,muscled shoulders slumped as if broken. He let his head fall back and gazed at the ceiling.

He should have been sober. Without that pint of Strong in his guts, he might have found a better choice of words. Some... bridge that he could have made, an olive branch extended, gods, would he ever get a better chance? But instead his addled mind latched onto the first thing he remembered about Noven nowadays.

"So... how're the brats?"

[Noven]

It was a foreign yet humbling sight, seeing the older man stare at that hunk of bread like it were a looking glass into his own soul.

He never really remembered Nate as being a deep thinker of any sort. Hell, Nov never remembered himself as one, either. Brawn over brains, fight over flight, fists before all else--those were the kinds of things they had boasted in their youth. Foolishly so, as all the women in their lives had warned them. But who had time to listen when the world was bowing to your feet?

Didn't take long for Nov to learn that nothing bowed to him, ever. Not without a price. And for the most part, that price was either beating or getting beaten.

For the rest, it was the life's blood of those few souls he cared for.

As he listened to Nate recount the story of how Kay had ended up the way she did, Noven felt the shadows in his heart darken. It seemed no one could escape tragedy in this city, and as much as he felt at home in the wilderness of lawlessness that ruled the Berth, sometimes he just felt tired. Tired of the pain and loss. Tired of it all.

But he couldn't leave. Not until he gave that slimy Daggerhand bastard what he deserved and then some.

When Nate eagerly downed the only bottle Calyn had succumbed to providing, there was a moment of internal struggle. If their landlady was understandable enough to include the booze despite her general dislike for drunkenness, Nov himself out to be practically willing to treat Nate to a round himself. If only it were so easy, though, to return to the way things used to be.

But seeing Kay there, all battered and beaten like some bloodied doll...he just couldn't stand the sight. Of both the kind soul lying motionless and of an old friend drinking himself to oblivion.

Before Nate could finish the whole bottle, Nov snatched it from the older man's hands. They both needed to be sober and alert for what came next, Nate in particular. What would Kay do if she came to and saw the closest thing she had to a son drunk out of his mind? She wouldn't be happy, that much Nov knew. And she would need help...lots of it. That much was obvious.

For a moment, it looked as though Nate was going to break his jaw. The blaze of fiery indignation in the man's eyes was hot enough to make anyone assume nothing less. But Nov held his ground. He was dead sure of his convictions, and he knew Nate was better than this. It was only a matter of time before the grief stricken brawler came to his senses. A few chimes was all it took before that threatening fist lowered and the first truly civil thing came out of Nate's lips.

Nov found himself wearing a small grin at the question. "You know as well as I. Just the usual, delightful qualities children of the Berth always have: loud, scheming, and petching vicious." He rubbed at his face and heaved a tired sigh. Just thinking about them drained him. "Brats, through and through"

He stared at Efrum for a while longer before asking, "So, uh...how's it been, life and all that? After...you know. That thing."

Not the most eloquent of ways to broach the subject but neither men seemed to be in much of a state to care.

[Nathaniel Ankah]

"You know as well as I. Just the usual, delightful qualities children of the Berth always have: loud, scheming, and petching vicious. Brats, through and through"

"Heh... remind you of anyone?"

For just a tentative moment, there was some mirth between them. Not just the stoic, sullen, stilted interactions of two people who were once friends and now just... happened to be in the same room together. But from that moment sprouted more, as if it was the crack in a vast dam.

Nate had missed Noven. The little man had ever been his second in their ragtag band: smarter than most, a thinker, but more than vicious enough to defend himself if he had to. Nate may have had the bulk and the feral charm to direct them, but he didn't realize until after Noven left how much he depended on him.

And what was that for? Whom did you scorn, shun and cast out your closest friend for?

Gods. What a fucking moron you are.

"So, uh...how's it been, life and all that? After...you know. That thing."

There was nothing but Nate's steady breathing and steadier gaze on Kay's twisted form on the bed. Gods... so much regret for one night. But this avalanche of self-hatred was... liberating, in a way. He could look at it straight, now. Without ego or pride getting in the way. Maybe you could say he was looking at it like Noven would have: to whit-

"You mean after I fucked you over for a bitch that wasn't worth it?"

He let that sink in for a few ticks before he continued.

"Just... as is. As was. Whatever, mate, just..."

He shook his head and clutched it in his hands. It hurt too much for him to talk long like this. All that street daemon shyke, the garbage they fed each other, pursued, brutalized and killed each other for... what was it worth now? Could it make her walk again? Could it take her pain? No. It was nothing.

He sighed at the floor and waited like that, not wanting Noven to leave, not knowing what could make him stay. But it wasn't Nate the younger man was there for: it was Kay. Once she woke, maybe he would go, but until then-

A gasp like a swimmer coming up for air and Kay's eyes were open again. The two brawlers were on their feet and by her side in a blink, but then they stopped, as if a shield were keeping them from touching her. They didn't know how tender or weak she was. What if merely grapsing her hand could cause her agony?

"Kay? Love, it's... it's me..."

"My boy..." Her voice floated in from far away, pushed through a raw, ragged throat. "Where... am I...?"

"Efrum's, love. Got him patching you up. Damn fine work for a horse doctor, I don't mind tellin' ya." Again, Efrum preened, and again, all ignored him; save Kay, who regarded him narrowly like he'd just revealed some strange skill in carving mountains. "And look, someone came to visit you. Remember-"

"Noven?"

Her smile could have banished a hurricane. Her hand rolled across the table she lay on, too weak to rise, too stubborn not to offer it.

"How... How have you... been?"

Nate closed his eyes and willed himself to remain calm. She was near death; she was crippled; she had lost blood and been betrayed by a little kid she'd taken a chance on. She had no cause, no rational reason to have anything but despair and bitterness keeping her alive.

And what was her first thought? How Noven is doing.

[Noven]

Nov laughed outright at Nate's retort. It was the funniest thing he'd heard all season, and without contest in truth. The two of them had been worth at least ten handfuls each what with the amount of trouble they were always getting into.

Or, as the younger selves had preferred to view it, all the trouble they were getting out of. Which in a city like this held far more value.

Hell, who didn't stir mischief in this slum hole they called home?

The mirth dwindled once more to melancholy, however, at Nate's second answer. It came out painfully harsh even for Noven's tastes.

The younger man looked down at his hands and exhaled slow. "No, Nate," he murmured, having not felt this somber since the day he'd found Nona and Henry ice cold in a nondescript alleyway. "We both know it wasn't as simple as that. Gwen was--"

But Nate waved it all aside, his mind clearly on far graver matters. Nov let it be. Their old bygones could be dealt with another time. Right now, it was Kay's life that topped all of their priorities. Besides, the older merc didn't know...Nov had neither the heart nor will to tell him Gwen's true role in this mess they had made. That the consequences had been beyond anything they'd been able to anticipate, and that his real reason for choosing to ostracize his only friend was the same one that had vengeance eating at his soul for the past year.

Much to both of their relief, a gasp broke the silence from across the room.

Thank the gods. Kay was awake!

Both men were by her side faster than an orphans to the dinner bell. Nov wanted to ask a thousand questions. Was she well? Did it hurt? Could she remember anything about her attacker so they could go and tear a new asshole for the dead fucker?

But he knew well enough such questions were far from appropriate in a moment like this. Instead, the cook let his old friend do most of the talking and coaxing.

And then, to his complete surprise, Kay saw him and smiled. The very sight sent cracks forming through his seemingly impenetrable facade of calm and his eyes grew hot. But he held the roil of emotions at bay. It wouldn't do to let them win at a time like this, in front of people he hadn't seen for years. Besides, Kay and her shrewd eyes would know something was wrong in a heartbeat, and he needed her not to doubt him.

"I've been alright, Kay, doin' just fine," he lied, taking her frail hand in his and willing as much warmth and strength as he could into her battered body.

"Take it easy now. You need rest, we'll be going no where till you're better. If you're hungry, Calyn sent her love and basket full of food."

Nov said this mostly to put her mind as much at ease as possible. He knew her well enough to know she'd be surprised if Nate hadn't already hunted down the one who'd done this to her and kicked the scoundrel's head clean off his ratty shoulders.

The cook shared a look with Nate, a questioning look in his eyes. It was an old look. One they'd exchanged hundreds of times in the course of their younger days.

Who were they going after?

[Nathaniel Ankah]

She was weak, but she was not blind. Her body was a mass of pain and her mind was fuddled and fogged, but... she could still see. Shadows surrounded Noven and her boy... not just the kind that were cast from light, either...

Nate met his friend's stare. She saw his face harden, save for his eyes. They were alive, liquid... like lava. Ready and willing to burn away stone and flesh and forests to get to the one he wanted. Her young man... it pained her, every day, how far he was falling. He was growing to enjoy that... wrath. That comfortable, easy thrill of violence solving every problem, curing every ill.

Now one of those ills was her. No. That would not do.

"... Nate..."

He hand reached out again and gripped his bicep, fingers so small and thin around his body. Nate captured it with his own and kissed it, eyes torn from their turbulent thoughts. It gladdened her to see them soften as she looked at her, but she still shook her head...

"Don't... No-one... Don't go... hunting... for him-"

"Kay, we're not-"

"Don't... fuck me... around...!"

The room stopped. Nate stared. Noven gawped. Even Efrum paused with his scalpel and washcloth poised in midair. Mild and merciful Kayleigh Ankah, using such... such... profanity?! Last time he'd heard of that, his mother had been about his age. Nate couldn't even remember when he'd last heard it, nor when her eyes had shown such fire, hand trembling and squeezing... so strong despite her pain.

"Swear... on me," he words came ground out like she was chewing gravel, scorning her injuries, her weakness, forcing them to spew forth with all the strength and sureness she could manage, "Swear that... you will not... hurt this boy. He was... like you... and I do not... want one hurt... by you... because of me. Swear it, Nate, or... or leave my house."

If there was shock before, it quickly turned to horror. Gods, how often he'd pushed her over the years. All the trouble he'd been in, the times rough men had knocked on her door wanting him... and never once had she threatened to cast him out. But this? Now she was serious. Even battered to the brink of Dira's Embrace, she was willing to disown the only "family" she had left if one was killed because of her sake.

"I... Kay..."

"Swear it. Swear on my life, my... my soul." She craned her head forward, a handful of inches that took all the strength she had. "And meant it, boy. I... I know you... remember?"

Nate looked into those hard brown eyes, that brooked no negotiation or compromise. He swallowed and Kay could see him weighing his options. Did he take the route of all the Sunberth street daemons? Blood for blood, pain for pain, until they were all corpses? She knew that was the instinctive reaction, and the one that worked, much to her dismay. Some would mutter that Nate was weak if he did not; that his knowledge of the streets or his reputation on them wasn't strong enough.

She wished she cared. But she didn't. She wished she didn't see the crippling of her own body as an opportunity. But she did.

"I... I swear... on your life... I will not harm whoever did this."

A sigh, a gasp, a groan... all of the above. It came with a slight smile and Kay nodded, eyes closing as he hand released his own and cupped his cheek. Her grip on reality was lessened, too, now she had what she wanted. Her head fell back and her breathing evened out, hard but steady... and Efrum walked over to check her pulse...

"She sleeps, and she is... stable, I think the term is." Nate winced inwardly. Gods, and he doesn't even know what they're called. "But she needs to rest. She'll need that most of all. If she stays on her feet, doesn't give them time to heal-"

"Yeah, yeah, I get the idea, healer," Nate said with a sigh, rifling through his purse and dispensing a handful of gold, "Keep her here until tomorrow night. Then I'll come for her, and you don't see anyone but her, you understand?"

"Sir, I have duties-"

"And I have another handful if you shut up and do as you're told."

Ah. Well, when he put it like that...

A few chimes later the two young men were outside. Some sort of thin, sparse, muttering crowd had formed, all of them hear that Kay Ankah, Sunset's Second Saint, had been bludgeoned near to Dira. Already Nate could read the eyes that flickered to him.

Probably had something to do with him.

Could have been him, don't you think?

No good comes off that one. Bad core, I marks ye...

Poor old girl. Didn't deserve it.

Doesn't pay to be nice in The Berth.

"Come on," Nate said brusquely, turning to Noven, "We've got work to do." He read the surprised look in... what-used-to-be-his-friend's eyes, and a sly smile that never touched his eyes followed it, "She made me swear that I wouldn't do anything. Fine. I won't. But she didn't say shyke about you..."

Whatever questions or assent Nov had to signal, they would be either thrown at Nate's receding back or asked from his side, moving at the same fast walk. Steel-capped boots crunched cobbles and dirt under him as they moved from Sunset, away from houses and tenements, into the section of town where a man's life was worth as much as a cheap drink or a dirty whore (or the other way around).

Hardly a place to look for a child. In any other city, anyway...

[Noven]

A single, reciprocated look containing enough fire to sear a roast was all the confirmation he needed. So Nate did have vengeful intentions in mind. All these years and this one touch hadn't been lost. Nov had guessed right.

His triumph was short lived, however, when Kay's frail hand reached out with unnerving conviction. Nov repressed a flinch of surprise and kept up a facade of calm as his mind raced with worry and doubt. Could she have guessed? No, no way. All that they'd exchanged was a pair of looks...never even mentioned anything...could she really have...

"Don't... fuck me... around...!"

Nov's jaw dropped straight to the floor.

Paying not the slightest attention to how her unexpected swearing had affected the others, Kay seemed to have eyes only for Nate in that moment, her fingers digging into his arm with strength that defied everything she had just endured.

Still thunderstruck as he stood uselessly to the side, Noven listened to the woman's vehement words. They brought his worry levels right up to his eyeballs and the cook cast troubled glances at his old friend. He knew Nate well enough to know this was no trivial matter. If Kay demanded that her son give his word on her life, he wouldn't risk defying her.

That woman's life meant everything to him.

It said a lot about Nate's fury that he was still weighing his options, even after Kay had threatened to toss him out. Nov knew that calculating look in his eyes and he was quite certain Kay did as well. But as far as either of them were concerned there was no way out of this. Nate had to accept the older woman's terms or live the rest of his life in miserable anguish. It was an ultimate ultimatum; no other route could be taken.

Something like a strange mix of relief and disappointment escaped Nov's lips when Nate finally surrendered. The younger merc had been working up his bloodthirst bit by bit until the moment Kay had spoken up and it would take some time releasing that sliver of honed anger, but a part of him knew it was the right thing to do, if only to give old Kay some peace of mind.

Nov watched Kay drift into exhausted slumber, hoping against all hope that the damage done to her could be erased. If she were a decade or two younger perhaps she wouldn't have been so badly affected or least recovered quicker.

But, such was life.

With one last, reassuring pat of the sleeping caretaker's hand, both men exited the suddenly too small room she laid resting in. Only to regret that decision as dozens of eyes flickered toward Nate's towering frame, offering questions and speculations so typical of Sunberth's locals.

Nov fought the urge to growl and bare his teeth at them like some rabid dog. It was an irrational instinct, he knew, and would only fan the unpleasant fires of rumor. Picking one's battles, or something of that sort.

Fortunately, Nate's voice cut through the anger and offered much needed direction. Ahh, clever, clever petcher...so he found a way to work around his near foolproof oath to Kay after all. Well, fine by Nov. Whatever got them off this street and onto the trail of whoever hurt Kay was good news to him.

Nate's compatriot obliged without question, pausing only to return the man's sly smile, and the two of them stalked off into the night.

It didn't take long from their surroundings to deteriorate from shitty living quarters to even shittier drinking and whoring turf. For any non-native, it might've seemed a ludicrous strategy, heading straight for one of the slummiest and most dangerous parts of town to look for a child. But this was Sunberth, and their perp was as much a child in the truest sense of the word as they were saints.

Not to mention street rats always worked in gangs. You simply didn't survive otherwise. If they made enough of these cuthroat buggers shit their pants, one of them might have a name worth spilling.

No sooner had he thought this than a rag tag bunch of scrawny, dirty kids materialize around a corner. Nov followed their hungry, vulture-like gazes to land upon some hapless, drunk idiot stumbling out of a rowdy tavern. Typical fare for street urchins. And they probably wouldn't even feel bad for slitting this one's throat.

Nov nudged his partner and jerked his chin in their direction.

"What say we start with that hungry looking bunch?"