Sly

Chapter Forty

I couldn't get one gods damned minute alone. Between Jexa and the others, Rorik who slipped in only once while none of my friends were present, and captain Pettypiece who's face was unreadable to whether he approved of the flock of rogues in his rooms, I felt suffocated. 

Tensions were high since that first night. When the captain had been summoned away, it was to investigate the escape of Grethan. The news shocked me, to say the least. It infuriated everyone else, and placed a heavy stone in the pit of my stomach. And as my arm healed and the pain began to fade into aches and too-tight skin over the healing wound, I became restless. There wasn't enough to do, considering the task my friends were handling. I had to settle for writing up their verbal reports for Rorick to read later.

There was finally a lull in the late afternoon a few days later. Bricker and Dirk were playing dice on the table by the fire, and everyone else was busy with other work. I pretended to be napping just to be left alone but all I was doing was laying on my side with my back to the room, playing with Davery's knife. I inspected it closely several times since I had received it from Jexa. It was his treasure. He never let it leave his side, so I hadn't handled it myself much. It had a little decoration at the base of the blade, nothing terribly fancy but far exceeding what most in Swamp would have, and the leather hilt was well worn. I would have to replace it soon, just as Davery did on occasion. My eyes threatened to flood again and I sighed.

"What's wrong?" Bricker was practically in my ear. I jumped and turned around, drawing the knife.

"You half-eaten plague-rotted giblets, don't sneak up on me like that!"

And then I felt the wetness slide down my cheek. The room was so quiet, I heard the drop fall onto the blankets of the bed in a heavy bead of water that could have been the first drops of a midlands afternoon shower.

Bricker stared at me for a long time, Dirk was standing at the table now. Flicking between the two of them, I huffed and set the knife down.

"Sly." Bricker nudged my elbow with his own, his tone soft. "I'm sorry. I won't do that again."

More pity. I was tired of seeing it in everyone's faces. I couldn't take that for long, not from the newbie, so I switched to Dirk's expression. It wasn't much better, but at least Dirk never showed his emotions as deeply. He only looked at me for a moment then walked out.

Bricker sighed, long and heavy. "I can't take his place, but you can still cry on someone's shoulder, you know. Please, don't let us lose you too."

My throat tightened. "Who says I'm going anywhere?"

"There's an empty chair at the Dragon that says it," he replied. "Theres a missing knife at practice, a missing pair of eyes last time we got someone off the floating cages."

I was starting to feel numb. Had they pulled someone from the cages? When was that? Who needed help? My body suddenly felt a few degrees cooler as the thoughts sank in. Of course from his perspective I'd been slipping away. It wasn't a wonder he and the others were keeping close tabs on me after the encounter with Grethan.

"Don't leave," Bricker whispered, suddenly the cheeky kid from Lindmead again. Wandering in a new place, his parents lost to war. The Bricker from before he'd regained his cocky strut and silver tongue. "Please."

That did it. I had cried enough times since Davery's death but always silently. I had clearly gotten my lungs back since then as I sobbed mercilessly into Bricker's tunic. It smelled like a bar, like dirt, like sweat. It smelled like my old life. Bricker just sat there with me, rubbing my back awkwardly as I cried.

Some time must have passed because the next thing to bring me out of it was the door slamming open. Orchid stepped into the room and took in the scene. Dirk leaned in the doorway behind her, and I instantly knew where the old rogue had gone. For a moment I thought the delicate girl was going to cry along with me, until her expression turned hard.