The Charlatan

32. A Bed of Roses

Hollow's market had quickly become Charlie's safe space. The colours of the textiles draped over the shops' counters reminded her of the warm fires of home. Of Velt, and of Passerine. The sun's rays shone brightly over all of Hollow's colours, highlighting its diversity and warming Charlie's heart. The bustle and constant hum of different languages, different voices, moving through the vibrant marketplace was calming for the scarred young woman.

Charlie's nights were being plagued by uncertain white blurs and feelings of fear. The nightmares were not quite as strong as they had been just weeks ago, thanks to her Seer friends, but Charlie could not deny that Ghosts and the Realm of Spirits were always on her mind in some way. Passerine may not be wholly lost. You only saw the outskirts, a desperate voice in her head kept telling her. It rang true; Charlie had seen the couple of towns on the Velt-Passerine border disappeared from memory, but the center may have still been left untouched. Furthermore, Velt's own small towns outside the Citadel seemed to be in one piece. It may have just been the towns near the northern part of the border, near Genesis. Velt and Genesis' battles may have extended that far. However, Charlie had no information on the status of Velt's capital itself. Who knew whether the Citadel was still standing? Where the fight was taking place? If there was even a fight at all? Charlie and her companions had avoided the northern half of the country on the way over, and Charlie was unused to being so uninformed. She realized just how much she was missing now that she had no explicit access to the wide information network of her home and her friends in the Courier Network.

The sight of a familiar body walking amongst the crowd snapped Charlie's attention away from her headache-inducing thinking. The short-statured, short-haired young woman walked with purpose, as she always did. Charlie called out to her and Clara turned her head toward her, grinning softly. She made her way over and struck up conversation.

"Charlie, how are you? I was just looking for you," Clara said in Passeri. Charlie's heart ached at the sound of her mother tongue.

"I'm well. Hollow is a kind place and I feel more at home here than in Mor," Charlie answered.

"I'm sorry about that," Clara said vaguely, but sincerely. Charlie raised a brow and was about to retort that there was nothing about the situation Clara was to blame for, but Clara continued. "I owe you a song. I never quite repaid you for what you did for me back in the Citadel."

"I beg to differ," Charlie interrupted. "You have been keeping all of us as safe as you can."

Clara shook her head. "No, I haven't known how to help you with the Spirits and Ghosts. It is Honey and Rime who take the credit for that. You have done more for me, hiding and shielding me, lying for me."

"You supported me before all of this began, when we were both couriers-in-training. Friends help each other."

Clara smiled and lightly poked Charlie in the shoulder, sporting a bashful expression. Charlie poked back and soon the two young women were chasing each other like small children playing a game of tag. It made Charlie laugh, and when she pointed it out to Clara, her Veltie companion looked mildly offended that Charlie had compared her to a child. In a way, we all still are, Charlie thought as the pair of women made their way back to the inn. This war, the Realm of Spirits... Everything looms so large and so uncertainly that I feel I am trapped in the body of a helpless child.

"I would still like to comfort you in some way," Clara said seriously. "What we saw in Passerine, your Sensitivity, it is a burden and it is harrowing." She frowned. "We could all use some loosening up, and not necessarily via spirits and beer." Clara? Denying a drink? That surprised Charlie and she made that known aloud. Clara chuckled. "I wouldn't want to put you out for a night and day again," she teased, reminding Charlie of the consequences of her frivolities a couple of nights ago.