The paper stayed warm in his hand after she walked away into the alleyway.
He didn't move. Holding the envelope made his palms sweat. Heat crept up from inside the sealed document, weighty. Hot enough to leave blisters.
Below him, the river ran. Unmoved. Behind him, traffic rumbled along the span of the bridge. Unaffected. No one stopped.
He needed somewhere else to go.
He folded the paper carefully. He placed it under his shirt against his bare skin. Nothing could fall out now.
He moved. Westward. South from the west. Not towards the north. To vanish in such places would be easy enough.
Winding streets should go straight. Tight passages drove the scents of decayed stone and fish directly up his nose. They opened suddenly, to crowded streets filled with the noise of voices bickering and yelling. Rebuilt cities, constantly reconstructed. Alignment. Nothing organic.
Buildings clustered together, jagged edges looming ominously above him. "SQUEAK." Ropes strained across gaps between stories, holding up weights of nobody. Above them, flags snapped in the stiff breeze. The cries of seagulls cut sharply through the air. Indignant shrieks.
Further north, lay the ocean. Enormous. Always gray. Patiently waiting. Cargo ships moved slowly across the face of it.
Northbound roads were substantial. Broad paths that led true and straight. Guards protected the roads. Iron posts marked inspection points. He passed them without pause or concern.
~
Dull pain pulsed in his head during mid-morning.
Hunger followed, clawing through his stomach—an unpleasant emptiness. With each stride forward, his limbs became heavier. Weary.
He leaned against walls, pretending interest in the posted signs. Guild warnings. Lost animals. Levy days.
And then he paused. Smells. Fresh loaves of bread baking. Or something close enough.
Between shutters was the cramped stall. Clothier to one side. Tack store on the other. Table. Pot hanging above glowing coals. The merchant observed travelers' passage intently, polishing a cracked cup with nimble hands. Not even glancing at him.
He fumbled his pockets. One silver soli.
Too expensive for food. More than that for drinks.
He waited until most others left. "Bread," he rasped, hoarse throat cracking around the word.
Merchant glanced up. Observing him calmly. From the bottoms of his dusty shoes upwards. "One pence. Two if heated."
CLINK.
Silver struck the table.
The merchant ignored it.
"No change." He clearly possessed several copper coins arranged neatly beside the pot. He offered neither. Silence fell between them, contemplative, measured.
"Could crack it, costs two pence fee."
The old man pressed the copper change across the wood plank.
Followed by the roll.
It was warm, melting the chill from numb fingers.
He ate slowly. Crust broke away from the bread to expose its soft core. Inexpensive grains.
"Do you wish for a drink?" Merchant raised the pot.
"What is it?"
"Coffee."
Another nod.
Chipped cup was proffered. Dark, steaming coffee.
Carefully lifted.
Scalded lips. Allowed. Rough tasting. Harsh. Realistic. Not sweet. Not soothing.
Stinging tears blurred vision briefly.
Mug emptied. Departed.
Watching eyes followed him without pursuit. Remembrance.
~
The afternoon was long.
Arriving at the barracks west gate, his legs wobbled weakly. Brain completely voided.
Message transfer was quick. Casual.
Crest examined. Emblem identified. Questions evaded.
Returning across the span to meet with her, he noticed sunlight had shifted. River reflected polished bronze.
She wasn't present yet. He waited.
Steps drew nearer. Slow, measured.
Stopped beside him. Recognition flickered in dark irises.
"Not expected our encounter again, huh?" she stated bluntly.
Silent reply.
Eyelashes swept down in evaluation. Searching for his crest on the worn coat. To her own clutching fingers, holding parchment sealed with matching emblem. "Delivery was received successfully. Messengers remain diligent."
Eyes appraised him once more.
"Neither message has been read," she observed.
"No."
Silence stretched thickly between them.
"Expected response when receiving letters incapable of being opened," she stated plainly.
A faint smirk curved his lips.
"As promised," she continued.
Handed him small leather pouch. CLINK.
Sound of silver within.
"Contains enough money to buy food and shelter. One day worth."
Acceptance, gratitude.
She hesitated, seeking appropriate words.
"For what it's worth, my name is Yumi," she revealed.
Acknowledgment with a single nod.
Wide-eyed surprise. Realization clicked into place.
It seemed she would not be getting an answer.
"That's alright. Didn't need your name."
She smiled softly, dismissing him with an airy wave.
Vanished into the crowd.
Under the bridge, the river flowed onward, indifferent.