Chapter 22: Nowhere Fast
A caravan
The Woman with the Caravan had no hair to speak of and no name. She offered them a ride, said she could take them far as Patient Night and then she was headed for the night market in Ashenelm where merchants would gather once every blood moon to sell and trade with each other. De'afi assured her the town of Lost was fine, they shouldn't need to go much farther.
Viola tucked herself away in a leftmost corner, surrounded by hollowed out coffee containers and old furniture from Turaq. Thinking antiques was just a fancy word for shit nobody wanted.
Speaking of shit nobody wanted.
She got from her rucksack a notebook that said Property of Viola M'et-Sepirot-Keita, Journalist DO NOT TOUCH on the front. She tipped it open with a flick of her graphite pencil.
Where's Sadie Crane? said the top of the page. And then a list of people and places, most of which were scrawled through or lined under. She'd done herself the favor of writing down Lost? and circling it in graphite pencil, in case she forgot.
De'afi was slowly picking apart a busted out armchair with hir carving knife. Under hir white linen overskirt, loose cotton pants secured with cloth ties (good for running away) and hir leather work boots (packed a firm kick).
The journalist picked Way Down Deep: A Traveler's Guide to All Creation off the floor and flipped it open. She scanned through pages, displacing scraps of colorful paper onto the floor. Dark filaments of graphite pencil lined the margins, notes scribbled along the corners. It reminded her of De'afi's commonplace book.
"Figure if they went, its gonna be somewhere obvious," said the journalist. "Written down and shit, ya know."
"That's stupid," De'afi snorted in disbelief.
"Yeah, well, we ain't the smartest critters," Viola shrugged.
"You sure we're on the right track?" De'afi queried impatiently.
Ze asked cause they been on the road all day, seen one delivery carriage and that was about it.
"Yeah," the journalist promised. "We still got a little ways."
"Really?" the aviator said in disbelief. "Cuz we not seen head nor hare of a town."
"Hide nor hair," corrected the journalist.
The small interior door came open and Herahera made slow into the caravan. She was a deep forest tree, pulled tall and limber and her short curls dyed bloodshot red. Hands folded in the pockets of her beige work jacket. De'afi had to ask how she moved so quiet, more like a river than a wave.
"I am following you to our deaths," she sighed.
"Real helpful," the journalist replied sarcastically. "Anything else?"
"Oh, yeah," nodded Herahera. "I have this."
She made an obscene gesture with her right hand.
De'afi barked laughing.
"Teach me that," ze demanded.
Viola blew air into her cheeks. Could not believe she was stuck in a caravan with these two idiots. What she'd give to be anywhere else on All Creation. Anywhere that wasn't looking for a Punk who up and disappeared five nights ago like a trailing question mark.
Herahera stuck her thumb at the interior door.
"We're here," she said.
Of the aviators De'afi asked, Herahera alone said she wanted to come help out. De'afi owed her like, a million favors.
The aviator jumped away from the antique chair, tucking the carving knife into a rightmost top pocket of hir overskirt.
"Guess I should look," ze said. "Might be snakes or culties out there. You wanna come, Vi?"
Viola shrank away from the wall and wagged her head around.
"Nah, I--no," she muttered. "No thanks."
She didn't wanna think snakes or culties right now. Maybe never.
Ze followed the tall one outside. Night air wrapped them like a blanket of hot strawberry spirits.
"You not from around here, are ya?" ze said.
"I'm from Turaq," Herahera said back.
She wasn't talking Arik. Been using her native tongue--Script, spoken in the villages of Turaq--for a long while.
They stood on the outskirts of Lost, the town alluded on Viola's map. The tall one spied a signpost at town limits. Welcome to Lost. Mind your business it said. Not very welcoming. This town slept with one eye open.
"Don't see no lights though," said De'afi. "Maybe they put the lamps out? Cause they seen culties around here or something? Red walkers maybe."
Herahera looked at where lights from the town should have been and shrugged nervously.
End of Chapter 22