Page 31 of The Shadow of Breninsol
“That’ll help the healing,” Eleanor explained, looking pointedly at Julia, who nodded eagerly, wanting to help and redeem herself to Iris. Eleanor added as an afterthought, “Make sure the Bellas also have it,” which prompted a protest from Lauressa.
“You both need to be working. If you’re not on the floor fast enough, where do you think you’rebothgoing?”
Lauressa swallowed but nodded against what Eleanor was telling her. No matter the argument that had ensued between the two of them, Lauressa wasn’t a mean person with true hatred in her heart. She didn’t want that future for herself, yet she also didn’t want to witness another woman being taken to somewhere worse.
Eleanor continued to ignore Iris’s scrutiny and left Julia and Lucy to tend to them. There was only so far that she’d go, and she was not nursing either of them back to health.
Chapter Thirteen
The Grape
Eleanor had tucked herself in a darkened corner of Rummers Pub rather than sit at the bar. Last time, she’d listened to a drunken Wilfred grieving to Fen, the bartender, and the hooded blond man, none of whom were in tonight. Since seeing the necklace on the bar top, she’d felt the added weight of it plaguing her, but she needed to complete this task before venturing down that path, as she knew it wouldn’t be an easy one.
Eleanor didn’t have a purpose when she snuck out of The Ladies Grace earlier. She hadn’t meant to leave so soon, but she’d tried drinking, and her sleep had been restless. Now all shecared for was to find somewhere for a decent drink, end up in a fight, and kill her target. The contract had gone on for too long. Then she might finally get some peace. So, she’d followed her feet and felt the pull to Rummers again.
It was a small, dingy pub with exposed stonework and low wooden beams in an old and mostly forgotten part of Breninsol. Located right at the city’s edge, this building used to serve as a trading boathouse, mainly for the fishers who caught fish near the shallows beyond the city’s walls. But since the fishing grounds had dried up, there had been no need for such a place, and the rounded coracle boats sat neglected in the rafters. It was once a small theatre but now functioned as a pub occasionally featuring musicians. The sharp smell of beer overpowered any salty fish smell that lingered.
To say Rummers ran on local neighbourhood trade was an understatement. It was tucked away on the slow flowing riverside and accessible by a steep, sloping alleyway. The nearby bridge’s shadow hid the building’s roof from Old Bridge Street. The low ceiling added to the pub’s innocuousness, forcing a few of the taller patrons to stoop as they entered. It was the perfect place for Eleanor to sit and quietly have a few drinks, but listening to the local gossip was an added benefit.
Tonight was no exception, especially coming from a group of men huddled by the crackling fire, which added to the smoke of pipes being sucked on as eagerly as the Bellas on their client’s cocks. Eleanor knew she wouldn’t hear any information about Linnet or the Missing. It would be another dead end. Who cared about a missing prostitute? The loss of revenue would briefly concern Linnet’s madam, but she would quickly remedy this by hiring another woman with the promise of easy money. Linnet wasn’t a wife nor a mother, so her use and her value were inconsequential to others.
Eleanor had been sullenly nursing the same earthenware mug of thick, bitter beer that allowed her to enjoy the fleeting illusion of fullness. It was stronger than whatever dreadful wine she’d been drinking from under her floorboards. She’d forgotten how long particular bottles had been sitting there for, long passed their drinkable dates. Eleanor sipped the warm sour liquid, finding it as comforting as her vitriolic thoughts on how low women had been brought down. All from one person’s decision all those years ago. One person had single-handedly doomed an entire gender for decades after their own demise.
The busy pub overflowed with occupied tables, benches, and murmured conversations, mixing with the sound of coins clinking together as a game of cards was being played. The voices of the men by the fire carried to her ears. From her lone corner table, the stale smoke hid Eleanor from their view.
“I’m telling you, it’s not safe.”
Eleanor shifted forward to make out their faces, aided by the candles that were stuck in random-sized glass bottles, where old wax had dribbled along the sides of the bottles and fixed them securely to the wooden tables.
“There was a raid on Lee the Box's place the other night,” the man continued saying to his friends. He was sitting facing her and had a pinched face with a scraggly beard.
Some believed the purpose of the Raids was to search for someone or something, even though the guards were not known to take anyone from the properties unless they were arrested.
“Right shame that,” commented the man sitting across from him. She couldn’t make out his features with his burly back to her.
“What’d they think they’d find there? Old Lee’s never hurt anyone,” said the other man sitting at the table. Eleanor could only see the man’s profile, and the scars that lined his face.
“The First if I know. Might have thought the old man was part of The Umbra,” the man with the ragged beard mumbled.
“Pfft. Haven’t they seen him? Not likely.”
If Eleanor hadn’t been listening to the trio’s conversation, she’d have missed the half mumble from the burly man. “Witches.”
The mug froze on its way to her lips, as their conversation turned dangerous.
“You think they’re looking for witches again?” Scraggly Beard replied. He spoke more into his mug than to the person opposite.
Burly Man’s shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Dunno…maybe they didn’t stop looking, maybe they’re in Breninsol. You hear what they’re saying.”
“What have witches ever done for us?” the man with the scarring said.
“Besides the Witch Queen.”
“Pfft, next you’ll be telling us to watch for the shadow-beast,” Burly Man grumbled. “A tale for children. Makes them behave, that’s all.”
Eleanor looked warily around the pub, waiting for eyes to dart their way, but no one was minding them any heed. There were no shouts, warnings, nor yells for the city guards.
Nothing.
