The Orphan of Saint Olette

Twenty-five

They walked the streets of Ankora aimlessly. Aoife thought she had seen a spire in the distance, but no matter which way they turned they seemed to come no closer. Half the time, they couldn't even catch a glimpse of this rumoured spire. The afternoon sun beat down on their backs as they walked—it always seemed to be at their back, no matter which direction they were going—and before long they had been forced to open one of their stolen bottles of water. For Shay and Rin, the ordeal was not so arduous. Rin had several layers he could shed, and Shay was content enough to go without his shirt buttoned—he would sooner have had it completely off, but did not fancy the ordeal of explaining the mess that was his torso—until they were in finer company, but for Aoife the sun was a small torture. Trapped in a mess of skirts, bodice and corset, it was akin to being in her own stove, and there was nothing she could remove to lessen her suffering. Had she done anything wrong, she would have thought it was the Maker punishing her.

"This town doesn't fuckin' go anywhere!" Shay yelled angrily, throwing their empty bottle at the wall with a satisfying smash.

"Yes it does," Rin said, after a moment's thought.

He had been silent all throughout their journey through the town, that brilliant mind of his mapping out each turn and each building. The other two had not noticed it, for most of Ankora was identical as it was, but they had passed the same house three times now. It was as if the streets were changing, yet they stayed undoubtedly the same each time. He couldn't quite wrap his head around it. It was obvious they were going in circles, and from the repetition he was seeing—not to mention that it would be physically impossible—there was no way the buildings were changing either. But something was keeping them from making any progress. A heavy buzzing sensation persisted at the base of his skull, but he shrugged it off as a result of confusion and that infernal sun.

"I am not sure how, but we're going in circles," he explained, seeing the questioning looks both Aoife and Shay shot him. "That building there," he pointed at the sandstone house opposite them, "We've passed it three times now."

"Rinian, I think you've been in the sun too long," Shay said, the faintest glimmer of concern in his voice. "We ain't been past this before."

Aoife nodded in agreement, and it was all Rin could do to stare at them in disbelief. Were they seeing something he wasn't? It was the same building.

"I'm telling you, it's the same building." He took a few steps, pointing down the road to the right of them. "Down there, three left turns, and we'd be back at the water place."

"Rin, we've been walking for hours, we couldn't possibly be near that disgusting old man," Aoife said, a frown creasing her brow.

The orphan reached for the bottle of water she'd be entrusted with, unplugging the cork stopper and took a few cautious steps toward her friend. Had she known Rin would react this badly to the heat, she would have begged Shay to take them through Olmaea and into the Riverlands. Better to be too cold than too warm, especially somewhere as well supplied with firewood as the Riverlands.

"Here, drink some of this. We can stop for a while, right Shay?" Aoife asked, glancing back at the Olmaean.

Before Shay had a chance to answer, Rin was in motion, knocking the bottle from Aoife's hand like a sour babe might knock one from its nursemaid. The orphan could do little but watch as the precious liquid inside seeped into the soil beneath them, turning it to a mess of sandy mud.

"I don't need to stop, and I don't need water," Rin protested. Why couldn't they see it? Even if they hadn't been paying as much attention to their surroundings as he had, surely they had to see how similar the place was? "We've. Been. Here. Before. And if we go left again, I think I'm going to go mad."