The jar of raglan berries was left carelessly open and I set the cap atop firmly, else they rot too fast. Other jars and bottles were left just as sloppy. Restless energy kept me moving, fixing as I went, unable to help myself as I tapped my feet on the wooden floor, my heavy satchel clutched on my arm. I dared not leave Ana for long, not in this land, not with these people – once, my people – but had no other way to earn the coin needed for us to get away. The shop seemed otherwise empty. Shuttered windows lined the upper walls and the dirty light filtering in shifted slowly, casting an irregular line into the store. Soft murmuring drifted toward me from the back room, but I could hear nothing of the conversation. Where was Baldon? Finally he fluttered past the curtain dividing this room from his sleeping quarters. In the moment he pressed through the curtain, I saw a naked whore lurching to her feet, flabby arms bruised and eye blackened darker than the rest of the paint on her face.
