Page 51 of Embrace the Serpent

“That’s for the peris to know, and for us to wonder.”

Even if I had to eat every meal crumb by crumb, it was probably worth it. “How much?”

He named a price that made my eyes water.

“No thanks,” I said. “How about clothes? The cheapest you have.”

His enthusiasm waned. He brought out bolts of cloth, and a small stack of already stitched clothing. Most several decades out of style, in an assortment of sizes. I picked a flowing pair of drawstring trousers and a long deep-green overdress that came with a shawl. Simple, a little faded, but soft and good for travel. “How much for this?”

He peered at me more closely, taking in the mud on my dress. “Ah,” he said.

“No, I can pay—well, I can trade.” I dug through my bag for Galen’s lilac dress.

“Ah,” he said, much more happily, shaking it out and observing it. “Yes, fine work. Very fine.”

“Would that get me a place to sleep and perhaps some dinner?”

He glanced out the window. “Oh, all right. Just don’t tell anyone.”

“I... shan’t,” I said.

He took the dress and bustled in back. I found myself idly looking over the maps he’d pulled out. A name caught my eye.Marehold.

My home. It was like a hollow in my chest suddenly filled partway. I wanted to see it. It was where the Marimer River met the sea, not far off the Imperial Road. But, judging by the distance between the city and Cobalt Town, it was some eight or nine days’ ride away.

He came back with a small flatbread and a thimble’s worth of water.

The aroma of spiced lentils made my mouth water. I lifted a bite to my lips. And another, and the plate was empty, and the vaguest memory of flavor lingered on my tongue. I licked my lips and looked at the man hopefully.

Just then, the bell over the door clanged, that same reluctant sound. I downed the thimble of water, and the man grabbed the plate and hid it.

A thin voice called, “Father?” An austere woman followed, the skin of her face pulled tight over delicate bones. “Goodness. Who is this?”

“I’m a traveler,” I said.

“She’s staying the night,” the shopkeeper said, eyes darting everywhere but his daughter’s face. “She traded a lovely dress.”

“Father,” the woman said. “Did you give her your meal? Your water?”

“Er,” he said. “Darling...”

I ate his meal? Guilt stirred in me.

“Shall I also give her the water out of my son’s mouth?”

“No thank you,” I said, but was ignored.

I inched toward the door as they argued. “The well will work again,” the shopkeeper said.

“Yes, when pigs fly, when beggars are kings, when the Emperor sends jewelsmiths.”

I winced. I should’ve just gone. But I found myself saying, “I’m a jewelsmith.” And then adding, “Perhaps I can help?”

They turned to me with twin looks of astonishment.

“Or not,” I said. “Happy to not help as well.”

On the village’s outskirts—that is, thirty paces from the last building—was an ancient stepwell. It was wide enough and deep enough to fit Galen’s entire workshop. Stone steps zigzagged all the way down to a square basin the size of my old room. Lines ran across the stone walls, marking where the water level had once been. The highest, faintest line went over my head when I stood on the basin floor.

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