The Kingfisher

XVIII : Salo (+ Thank you!)

The floor boards creaked and squeaked as the team took hesitant steps into the woman's house. A shiver rushed down Salo's spine while he took in his surroundings. Countless of books lay in dusty shelves, some of which had broken spines and bookworm-eaten pages. Small particles danced in the atmosphere, as if taunting the boy. They could escape from cracks in the windows and holes on the walls. He was trapped inside a mansion with the woman who spawned a murderer.

Bela led them to a small sitting room. Burned wood was stuffed into the fireplace and a tall flame consumed them, crackling and reaching out its welcoming arms. Every cell of Salo's body wanted to dive next to the fire, close his eyes, feel the warmth lick his skin. He used the last drop of his energy to resist that urge.

A large window revealed the garden beside the house, which Salo found weirdly well-cared for. The witch didn't seem to be concerned half as much for the rest of her estate. "Come, sit," she smiled, exposing a bright set of teeth. Why do they call her an hag, anyway? Salo wondered, examining the woman through half narrowed lids. Because she's old? Is that it?

"We won't be here for long," Arden informed, yet he eagerly collapsed on a dirty sofa. "We just want answers. Then we'll leave."

She cackled a hoarse laugh. "Why the rush, boy?"

"I think you know the answer to that."

Bela's smile fell as she nodded. "Yes, yes. The same reason that cursed son of mine won't come visit his poor mother." She leaned back, her joints grinding against each other like rusty gears. "Although that son has a much higher chance to find the artifact than a few lowly thugs."

Salo's mouth dried. How could she know that? He sucked in a breath, throwing a glance at Arden's calm posture. His eyebrow twitched and his silver eyes studied the old woman, but the boy didn't betray his emotions. So that's why. She really is a witch.

A few seconds of suffocating silence passed by. Salo realized he was holding his breath as he waited for Bela to throw them out, call the guards to arrest them for treason. A reaction. A sign she was still loyal to her country. Yet the sight of the people who defied her son seemed to amuse her instead of disturb her. She cackled, shaking her head. "I'm no sorcerer, boy," she corrected his thought, although he doubted it wasn't his face that gave away his surprise, instead. "Your walk is arrogant. I've seen it a million times before in Tama Square, in the market, everywhere. Those punks think they own this place."

Salo sighed in relief. It was better if Bela didn't know who they were, or their past. It was one of his weaknesses. One mention of his father, and he could easily be distracted.

"Why help us, then?" Ailyn asked quietly. She hadn't taken a seat. Her arms were crossed on her chest, guarding herself from the words of the old woman. Something was wrong. Salo could sense it.

Bela finally stood. "You mentioned Korin. " She released a long sigh, puckering her wrinkled lips. "Since you are here bothering me, I suppose he's dead."

Nora reached into her pocket and pulled out the deceased man's handkerchief. The team had taken the cloth from Korin's collar before they left the factory; a bright yellow fabric with sparkling white details sewn on its edges. Most of its surface had turned brown when they had taken it. Now the blood had dried and flaked. Salo tried not to gag.

The girl let the handkerchief fall on the arm of the couch, a sour smile stretching her thin lips. "Pretty much".

The woman's gaze lingered on the dark stain before returning to glare at Nora. "I promised the man a favor when he was last here. I owe him. And you should know, I never renege on my vows." For a moment she looked at the garden, examining the vibrant leaves blanketed by snow. It seemed to relax her. "I can help you as long as you help me."