Page 67 of Veinblood
“Tomorrow,” Corwin says. “I will need tonight to make arrangements.”
“What kind of arrangements?”
“The kind that will keep you alive. We’ll have to time this right, as well as you having documentation for the guards at the gates.”
I don’t want to wait, but I understand why. I can almost hear Sacha’s voice warning me in my head in that tone he uses when he’s explaining something he considers vital to survival.
It’s better to be cautious than dead.
Masha takes her cloak from the peg by the door. “Stay here. I’ll go and get the herbs to darken your hair.”
The other two follow her out, and the door closes behind them with a soft thud, leaving me alone in the small house. Silence falls, broken only by the distant sounds of the city outside. I jump to my feet, and start pacing. The space feels too small, too confining, and everything inside me is demanding I move. I need to dosomething, other than wait.
But I can’t leave.
My hand touches my chest, just above my heart, where the odd connection to Sacha pulses. Whatever he’s doing, wherever he is,the bond that appeared when we were tossed to Chicago hasn’t gone. If anything, it seems stronger now we’re back in Meridian.
Stay safe. I try to send the thought along the connection. I have no idea if he’ll sense it, but it makes me feel a little less alone.
Time crawls by, every sound making me tense. The proclamation’s sketches burn into my brain. The gold reward offered. How long before someone recognizes me? How long before the reward money proves too tempting for even the most sympathetic person?
It’s almost noon when Masha returns, carrying a cloth bag filled with herbs.
“These will darken your hair without harming it,” she explains as she moves to the hearth and hangs a pot over the fire. “We’ll brew them strong and let the mixture cool before applying it. ”
She adds herbs to the boiling water. While they simmer, she makes tea and fills a plate with sliced meat and fruit. We eat while the concoction fills the room with an earthy, medicinal scent.
Once it’s ready, she pours the mixture into a bowl and lets it cool before bringing it over to me. “It needs to saturate your hair completely, and then we’ll let it sit for as long as possible before rinsing it off.”
The liquid is still slightly warm when she begins pouring it over my hair, working it through every strand with her fingers. When she’s finished, she wraps my head in cloth.
The herbal treatment takes most of the afternoon to workproperly. We spend the time preparing vegetables for the evening meal and drinking tea.
When Masha finally removes the cloth wrapping, I check my reflection in the small mirror she provides. The silver strands have been muted to a darker shade—not completely brown, but dulled enough that the silver streaks look more sun-lightened.
“Better.” Masha’s voice is full of satisfaction. “The herbs will continue to darken it overnight. Between this and the eye covering, you should be able to move through the city without immediate recognition.”
Sleep, when it finally comes, is fitful and filled with dreams of silver hair turning brown and Authority soldiers checking papers at city gates. But underneath the anxiety runs a current of anticipation. Tomorrow, I’ll meet other Veinbloods. Tomorrow, I’ll see the proof that Sacha doesn’t fight for ghosts.
When dawn comes, I’m already awake and waiting when Corwin arrives.
“Time to go.”
Masha helps me wind a thin strip of fabric over my eyes. I can still see through it, but it should stop anyone from seeing the silver I’m trying to hide. Once it’s in place, I walk across the room to join Corwin at the door, then turn to Masha.
“Thank you.” The words feel inadequate for what she's done for me. “I don't know how to repay?—”
“Find your way back to the Vareth'el," she interrupts quietly. “Help him reclaim what the Authority stole. That will be payment enough.”
These people are risking their lives for me, based on nothing but hope and belief in a man they haven’t seen in almost three decades.
I make a silent promise that I won’t let them down.
The morning air is crisp when we step outside. Ashenvale is stirring to life around us. Early vendors are setting up market stalls, Authority servants heading into buildings, inns opening for business. Corwin leads me through narrow side streets toward the market district. His steps are confident and unhurried, the pace of someone with legitimate reason to be outside rather than someone hiding something.
We join the flow of people heading toward the city gates. Merchants traveling to other settlements, messengers carrying correspondence, Authority officers with business beyond the walls. The crowd provides excellent cover. We’re just two more people among dozens.
“The gates are ahead,” Corwin murmurs as we approach the city walls.
