Page 152 of Eldritch
“I was probably asleep.” Corwin sighed. “All I ever do is sleep these days. Dreaming of food.”
“I saw a man like you described.” Father’s hoarse and gravelly voice came from behind. “Thought he was death coming for me at last.”
Finally, a clue. “Did you see where he went?”
He winced and lowered his gaze. “Tried not to look at him. Heard him say he wanted to consume me.”
I recoiled at that. “Consume you? Are you certain?”
“Good heavens,” Aleysia scoffed. “That is grounds for getting as far away from that man as possible.”
I sailed an exasperated frown back at my sister.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Cannibalism, Maeve? Can you fathom kissing a man who gets bits of human skin stuck in his teeth?”
“Enough. He’s not a cannibal.” I turned my attention back to Father. “You’re certain you didn’t see where he went?”
He shook his head. “Thought it’d be less painful if I didn’t acknowledge him there. When I finally dared to turn around, he was gone.”
“I could help you look for him.” Corwin pressed himself closer to the bars. “If you let me out.”
“Why were you locked away to begin with?” It was strange Aleysia would ask such a thing, given the reason was fairly obvious. While the Grinsgaiths were welcomed ale makers in the village, they were still looked upon with suspicion.
Corwin breathed a bitter laugh. “You ask as though Sacton Crain has any reasonable explanation for locking people away.”
Aleysia eyed him up and down. “Given the state of things, he must not have found you very useful.”
Corwin’s brows pinched together. “It so happens I possess a very important skill.”
“Your mother was the ale maker,” she argued, her tone saturated in boredom. “You were a barkeep.”
“What is the end of the world without a proper drink? Miserable, that’s what.”
“We don’t have time for this.” Aleysia waved her hand dismissively. “If there’s food, we should find it and pack some for our travels.”
“Travels?” Corwin laughed the word, as if it were unthinkable. “You’re traveling with those…things out there?”
“Yes,” Aleysia and I both answered in unison.
He shrugged. “Might I tag along?”
“No,” Aleysia answered before me.
“Please. They’ll kill me here. Sacton Crain happens to believe I’m apoisoner,of all things.” He let out a nervous chuckle, looking me up and down. “No offense intended. He’s convinced the entire village that the ale they’ve consumed for decades is somehow mind altering.” He sighed, lifting his robe. “He also didn’t appreciate seeing me in a mourneclote.”
“What in God’s name is a mourneclote?” Aleysia crossed her arms and tipped her head.
“In Cruxmere, we wear mourneclotes while grieving our dead. I was mourning my dear mother in peace, until those creatures emerged. I didn’t exactly have time to change while a spindly spider was chasing me through the village. Anyway, in addition to being a poisoner, I was tossed in here for not wearingpropertrousers.”
“Are you wearing a cammyck beneath, as well?”
“Aleysia.” Sighing, I shook my head and peered past him, searching the cell for any sign of a weapon, and found nothing but a bucket, like father’s. “I will set you free, but quickly. I have to find my …. Well, he’s my friend.”
“He’s her lover. With a hideous scar,” she whispered, and again, I elbowed her in the arm.
“Anyway, please don’t make me regret it.”
He shook his head frantically. “I promise, I won’t. I know Cruxmere is said to be the Port of Pirates, and that is true for some there, but I’m really nothing like them. In fact, I’m the reason Mother and I moved to Foxglove. My father considered me a bit weak. Effeminate, I believe he called me.” His brows pulled together when he lowered his gaze. “He forced me out of the only home I’ve ever known.” A mist of tears shined in his eyes. “My mother chose me,” he said, his lips pulling to a somber smile. “So we both fled.”
