House of the Raven (The Eldrystone #1)

16. CHAPTER 16

16

VALERIA

“I can see. I can see! I am not blind anymore. Bless the fae healer!”

Vicente Villanueva - Human Beggar - 5 DV

B linking, I let my eyes adjust to the dim interior of the wagon. There are only two candles burning in each corner. The resinous scent of myrrh fills the air, as well as the sound of someone with long nails drumming their fingers. As my gaze sharpens, I discern a man seated behind a table adorned with a crimson silken drape. He wears a turquoise kerchief twisted and wrapped around his head to form a band. There is heavy kohl around his fierce green eyes and his dark beard is braided and adorned with colorful beads. El Gran Místico, I assume.

“Take a seat, dear,” he says, gesturing toward the chair across from him.

There is a set of tarot cards sitting to his right and a veritable crystal ball to his left. He’s a Romani diviner.

“Oh, I’m not here to—”

He cuts me off. “Of course, you are.” He glances pointedly toward the door, as if he knows the reason I don’t want to be out there.

Swallowing thickly, I take a seat .

He shuffles the cards with dexterity and lays the pile in front of me. “Take out three cards and place them in a row, facing down.”

I frown. “I shouldn’t. I don’t have any money to pay you.”

Swatting the air as though shooing away an annoying fly, he remarks, “No matter. It’s not like the whole town is beating down my door .”

The emphasis he places on the last few words causes a chill to run down my spine.

“Please,” he nods towards the cards.

As I start to lift my hand from my lap, it trembles slightly, so I make a fist, take a few breaths to steady myself, then draw three cards and lie them in a row.

“The cards represent the past, present, and future. Now, flip the past, the one to your left,” he instructs.

I do so to reveal a card with ten coins and three robed men under an archway.

El Gran Místico lifts an eyebrow as he looks at the card. “Wealth but perhaps also… strife. A strange combination, don’t you think?”

Not from where I’m sitting. As a child, I suffered much after Mother’s death. Her absence was a hole right in my chest, a hole nothing could fill for a very long time. And though now it does not gape, it’s still very much present.

I turn over the next card, wanting to get this over with, but feeling oddly safe from Bastien.

The card presents a man trying to balance seven swords.

“Duplicity,” El Gran Místico says. “It seems you aren’t who you say you are.”

What?! How can he…?

“I haven’t said anything,” I blurt out.

He shrugs one shoulder. “Not to me, at any rate.”

I flip the last card over. It depicts a man wrestling a lion. I bite my tongue, afraid of what it may mean, given that the other two cards seemed eerily accurate.

“Fortitude,” he whispers, rubbing his beard, the beads clicking together. “Lots of it. It can also mean power.”

He regards me curiously, his thick eyebrows pinched. “Who are you?”

“Nobody.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It makes no difference.” I look away at a set of shelves lined with bottles. They are held in place from bumpy rides by taut ropes extending from one side to the other.

Watching the man from the corner of my eye, I notice something… different . My head snaps back in his direction. I scan his face trying to spot what I perceived, but everything’s the same. He kicks back in his chair and steeples his heavily-ringed fingers. I go back to glancing at the shelves. The same thing happens.

This time, I turn my head slowly, and just before I’m facing him fully, I realize what the difference is. His ears are pointed. He is fae!

“What seems to be the matter?” he asks.

“Your ears,” I say in a low breath.

He stiffens for a moment, then relaxes again. “So… you have the blood.”

How does he know? Because I saw his glamour? I’ve never done that before, never saw through Mother’s glamour.

I shake my head and stand, the chair scraping the wooden floor. “I should go.”

Turning in the cramped space, I reach for the door handle.

“I would hold for just a second before opening that door, if I were you,” El Gran Místico says.

Over my shoulder, I give him a questioning frown.

“When you step outside,” he goes on, “take a left, go to the front of the wagon, wait for five beats of your heart, then go into the tavern in the corner. Run there, don’t walk. They have an exit in the back. Go out that way, and you’ll be safe. For a time.”

Is he serious? How can he foresee all of that? For all I know, he’s a charlatan with marked tarot cards and a fake crystal ball. But then I look back at his ears, which keep flicking from round to pointed. He is fae. He has espiritu.

“You’d better go out. Now ,” he urges.

I make a split-second decision to trust him and open the door. Carefully, I step down and go around the wagon on the left side. When I get to the front, I wait and count.

One.

Two.

Three.

On the other side of the wagon, I catch a glimpse of movement in my peripheral vision. Slowly, I turn my head in that direction and see Bastien peering into the window of a dress shop. He pauses for an instant, then goes inside the shop.

Four.

Five.

I run toward the tavern in the corner and burst through the door. The patrons stare at me with deep frowns. I shake myself and begin walking with a casual air. No one is behind the counter, so I press past the doorway in the back and enter a small kitchen. The cook, a heavyset woman with her hair wrapped in a white cap, startles.

“Who are you? You’re not allowed to be back here!” she says.

“Sorry.” I keep pushing forward until I spot another door, which finally leads me outside. This time I’m in a narrow alley. The smell of garbage wafts in the air. A gray cat jumps off a wooden crate and meows at me. I wish I could pet him—I like cats—but I don’t have time .

I look right and left of the alley. A caw alerts me to Cuervo’s presence. He’s perched on the roof of a building to my right. Without hesitation, I head that way. He takes flight, and I follow. Once on the market path, I weave through the stalls, following my friend, who leads me straight to Jago. He’s standing at the edge of the woods, Furia’s reins in his hand as he looks on, worried.

“Val, there you are!” he exclaims. “I thought that bastardo caught you.”

“He’s close. We have to go.”

And just as I finish saying this, Bastien’s voice booms behind us. “Stop right there.”

Jago acts swiftly, guiding Furia into the woods, then helping me up with a firm grip.

I settle behind him and wrap my arms around his waist. “Let’s get out of here.”

Jago spurs the mare, and she takes off at a gallop. Her hooves pound the ground, and my heart meets their rhythm.

“Stop! I command you,” Bastien’s voice again.

I glance back and see that he’s running toward us. Is he insane? He’ll never catch up to us no matter how fast he appears to be. I’m starting to raise the fig when I notice a horse racing behind him. In an instant, the animal catches up, and Bastien jumps on it without even stopping.

What in Faoloir’s name kind of horse is that?!

“Faster, faster,” I urge. “He has a mount.”

“What? How?”

I shake my head. I have no idea how Bastien does half the things he does.

Noticing a tall boulder ahead, I instruct Jago to go around it. He pulls on the reins, and Furia veers to the right. I lean in close to Jago’s ear, my words pouring out as rapidly as they can. A crazy alternative to our initial plan has suddenly sprung to mind. I have no idea if it will work, but what’s evidently clear is that if I remain on this horse, Bastien will catch me again.

“Don’t stop for any reason,” I say as adamantly as I can. “Keep going, no matter what. Go back to Castellina, I’ll meet you there as soon as I can. You know where.”

“What are you…?”

I don’t hear the rest of his question because, as we go around the boulder, I leap off the horse. The impact with the ground is jarring, and it seems like every bone in my body is on the verge of breaking. Clenching my teeth, I ignore the pain and keep rolling with my momentum. I pass over a patch of grass that cushions my fall somewhat. As soon as I come to a halt, I scramble to my feet and hide behind the boulder.

Hooves pound on the opposite side as I crouch down, holding my breath and nursing my wrist. It hurts like all hells. The clamoring gallops swiftly fade into the distance, and I pray Bastien won’t hurt Jago.

I straighten up to my full height and retrace my steps toward town. As I sprint through the flattened underbrush, I spot Cuervo perched on a tree branch, observing me silently. There’s a subtle gleam in his eye, indicating that he took care to remain concealed, preventing Bastien from using him to track my whereabouts. I offer a nod of gratitude, and he responds with a nod of his own.

Jumping off the branch, he flies ahead. I know he will warn me if he sees any guards searching for me. Having just seen Bastien take chase in the opposite direction, I breathe a little easier and move with more confidence in my step.

Some minutes later, I find myself in front of El Gran Místico’s wagon once more. This time I knock. I know exactly why I’m here, though I’m not sure it’s a good idea. Something tells me I’ll be safe hiding with the strange man. Bastien walked right by the wagon and didn’t try to search it. Maybe that means he doesn’t think I would hide among the Romani. Or maybe it means that El Gran Místico has protecting spells over his property. Whatever the case, I’m still free because of him.

But it’s more than that, isn’t it?

The door opens and a somewhat familiar face pokes out. It’s the beautiful woman I saw on the road.

“El Gran Místico is taking a rest right now,” she says. “Please come back later.”

My heart sinks, and I’m about to beg or do whatever it takes for her to let me in when his voice calls from within. “Let her in, Esmeralda. She should rest.”

The woman frowns but does as he instructs.

I swiftly enter, and a rush of relief washes over me, causing all the tension to dissipate from my body. My knees waver, and the pain in my wrist intensifies. I stagger backward, feeling lightheaded. Esmeralda extends a hand and steadies me, guiding me toward the chair I occupied earlier, where I collapse with a sigh of relief.

She looks between me and El Gran Místico. “Who in all the hells is she?”