She closed her eyes and sighed, "These clothes are from the thirteenth century. Everybody will stare if I wear them. They will get suspicious."
She truly seemed to care about other humans. Or was it just a trick? I had to consider that she was trying to lull me in with her faked compliance just to try and outsmart me later. Vaelora was a very intelligent person; there were many similarities between her and Roweena besides looks. The way she walked and talked—despite the different language—told me she was in there somewhere. Vaelora would use any trick to break free, and so, it seemed, would Roweena. Well, time would tell, and I was prepared.
"Let's go find a place with a bed and food." I pulled out two black capes from the trunk and wrapped one around her, pulling up the hood to hide her face, "Will these be acceptable?"
"Yes," her voice was barely audible.
I pulled the other cape around me to hide myself. I still didn't have shoes, and that might be a problem.
"Stay," I instructed her and moved to the unconscious workers.
"You promised," she cried.
"And I will keep it," I hissed, insulted that she suggested I wouldn't. I pulled off the first man's shoes—too small. The second's weren't much better, but they would do. At least for now.
"Let's go," I put my hand on the small of her back and led her back to the door we had entered through. The satchel of jewels was heavy in my pocket, its weight reassuring that I could procure whatever we needed.
Outside, the first rays of the sun were trying to break through the rooftops. The houses were built so close together that their roofs nearly met, keeping a twilight glow upon the streets even in the early morning hours.
We didn't have to walk long before I noticed a sign proclaimingSwan's Inn. From one of the books, I had learned that anInnwas a place where one could find a bed and food. I stirred Roweena toward it and opened the door like I had observed other men do, marveling that they would send their females in first, not knowing what dangers might lurk inside. The world had changed indeed, if they didn't have to fear for safety like this.
"Good morning, sir, what can I offer you today?"
"Food and a room," I demanded.
"Of course, sir. Right away, sir," the old man nodded, pointing at a table by a large fireplace.
A couple sat at another, fussing over a baby.
"We will eat in the room," I decided when I saw two men in uniform sitting at another table. I didn't mind a fight, but Roweena needed a hot bath, food, and warm clothes.
"Of course, sir," the man agreed happily.
"And have a bath brought up," I added, something else I had learned through the books. These people didn't have baths in their houses. Most didn't even bathe for weeks at a time. No wonder they all looked so sickly.
"A bath?" The proprietor's gray eyebrows rose up all the way to his hairline.
I pulled out one of the lesser gems, "I trust this will suffice."
The man's eyes grew large, and I worried I was overpaying him. "How long will you be staying, good sir?"
"A few days," I informed him, already on my way to the stairs, pulling Roweena behind me. She dutifully kept her head down, but her futile glances to the Watch Men didn't escape me. "Your choice," I whispered into her ear.
She turned her head away and hurried up the stairs.
"Last door straight ahead of you," the man called after us.
The room was small and dank. The curtains and shutters were closed, and I made them my first chore. I opened them wide to let a breeze in to get the stuffiness out of the air. After having been cold for so long, the room felt stifling.
I barely glanced at Vardor; he would have killed those two men at Piccadilly, and I didn't think he would have cared. My fear of him grew with every passing moment. Besides being deranged, he was also brutal and dangerous. I would need all my wits about me if I wanted to escape him. For the time, a plan on how escaped me, but I was sure an opportunity would arise. It had to. Staying with him was simply… unacceptable.
I watched him brutally and efficiently kill six men. Six men who, by all appearances, had stood on the wrong side of the law for a long time. They must have known how to survive and fight. Vardor hadn't even breathed hard. He had not a scratch on him. Neither did he have a scratch from where I had been scratching him. For a moment, just a moment, I considered the truthfulness of his insane statement that he was a god. It fit. It did. But didn't considering the possibility make me as irrational as him?
How did he know about the ring, though? Or my handkerchief?
Lucky guess, I decided after a moment of contemplation. He obviously had taken the mummy and the jewelry out of thesarcophagus, and the ring was made in the same style; it even had hieroglyphs etched into it.Yes, but he wouldn't have seen those, my mind argued.Lucky guess, I shut the voice down, not ready to consider the alternative of him not being crazy.
Unless we ran into an army, I decided, I wouldn't dare challenge him in public. There was no telling what he was capable of. The last thing I wanted on my conscience was to be responsible for other people's deaths.
