Forever Green

~ 53 ~ What the Crowd Saw

There was no time to lose. After snatching the keys from the hook on the wall, Theiden had unlocked the room that held Nevitas Eltwen. He had explained the situation as briefly as he could to the half-conscious bookkeeper before helping the man stand and hurrying out the door. Theiden did his best to ignore the despairing moans that came from within the other locked rooms in the hallway – there was no time, and there was no assurance that whoever was within them wasn't already Turned and would kill him as soon as he opened the door, anyway.

Though Mr. Eltwen's glasses had been destroyed and he was bleeding from a gash on his head, Theiden still sensed the man's apprehension at seeing the prone form of Colverne lying in the stairwell. The arm around Theiden's shoulders drew back, and the bookkeeper's steps faltered.

"That – " Mr. Eltwen began.

"Someone will be here to help him soon," Theiden interrupted. "There's no time – we must leave."

Mr. Eltwen gave a troubled sigh, but nodded and let Theiden help him up the steps. The man was limping, and it was especially tricky to maneuver around the body blocking half the stairwell. It seemed to take forever, but finally, somehow, they managed.

"Hurry," Theiden urged, though the warning was hardly necessary. Theiden pulled Mr. Eltwen's arm around his shoulders once more and practically dragged the older man up the rest of the stairs. Heran could return any second, and then it would be over for both of them.

It seemed a miracle, but they stumbled out of the establishment's headquarters without incident—perhaps it was because most of the city was attending the Midsummer festival, or due to Colverne's hubris in not appointing someone to temporarily guard the entrance while he made his rounds, but it didn't matter much to Theiden, as long as they were safe.

Still, the ordeal wasn't over yet. Kivirra had told Theiden where they needed to be that evening, and Mr. Eltwen's pace was slow.

"My bookshop is that way..." the older man began, a frown appearing on his face as Theiden steered them towards the center of town instead.

"We need to go to the central plaza," Theiden explained, his gaze darting from left to right as he scanned the street for Heran or any others who might see them. "And we need to get away from this building quickly, before anyone sees us. How much weight can you put on that leg?"

He nodded at the bookkeeper's injury, and the man shrugged, seemingly having recovered his senses a bit since leaving his cell. "I've had worse," he replied, testing his weight on the leg and wincing when it became too much. "The center of the city, you said? Let's go, then."

With Theiden leading the way and Mr. Eltwen hobbling as fast has he could by his side, the two of them made their way closer to the shouts of merriment at the center of the city, making sure to keep in the shadows. Not for the first time, Theiden cursed the city's hilly landscape, which slowed their progress when they started to head uphill.

Both the sounds and lights had gotten brighter at their approach to the plaza, and notes from a flute could now be heard merrily streaming through the air.

"And why are we coming here?" Mr. Eltwen finally asked, huffing after they had scaled another set of stairs. "It's not that I distrust you – after what you've rescued me from, I'd follow you to the ends of the earth – but I do wonder if this might be able to wait another day?"

Theiden pressed his lips into a line. Kivirra had been vague, saying he would know what to do when it happened, but it didn't seem right to tell the bookkeeper such a flimsy explanation.

"There have been more encounters with witches as of late," Theiden explained. "Decliteur wants to hunt and capture more of them, and we need to find a way to stop him."