Chapter 2: Distractions

An hour later and Val and Pudge were crouched over in an alleyway near the intersection. She had the fake censer under her arm - it was heavier than it looked and the lacquer hadn't quite dried, and so it was sticking up the side of her jacket. It was her good jacket - her only jacket, obviously. What little else she owned was stashed away at Ms. Lavoie's, and it mostly consisted of winter clothes and the stuffed dolly that was one of only two things she had since before she was an orphan. The other was the little silver pendant she kept around her neck at all times, even on bath days.

A rat wandered up to them and sniffed at the censer, flinching at the resinous odor and scampering away before Val had a chance to shoo it off. The alleyway reeked of waste concentrated in little puddles of old rainwater, but they'd found a relatively dry and reek-free spot. After thirty minutes' wait, Pudge elbowed Val, but she'd already spotted it, too.

The bishop and his men were in a shiny white coach flanked by four red- and blue-clad men on horses. Men with pretty scary-looking pikes, as well as little black bolt-casters strapped to their backs. These were the fighting men guarding the bishop… these were the men they were supposed to distract.

"It's not worth the chits," Val whispered. Pudge was very clever, but sometimes he lacked common sense.

"Two chits and a shilling each," he whispered back. "And we still got four hours until suppertime… time enough for another job, even."

Val considered that. They could distract the guards, circle around, and then she'd stop by the herbalist's to see if she needed any work done. If not, Penny would still be there, and maybe they could talk. She had such nice clothes now… a dress almost as nice as the herbalist's and velveteen slippers that wouldn't keep your feet dry in the winter at all. The people who wore such slippers didn't have to march around through snow up to their knees because they had indoors jobs.

Pudge elbowed her. "It's now or never."

Val set her jaw and nodded. Fine - they'd be a distraction. They'd get their chits and their shillings. Then she'd stop by the herbalist's and, if there were no jobs to be had, she'd help around anyway. Just to be near Penny, who was about the coolest person that Val knew.

She waited until the carriage was passing right in front of the alley before she mad her move. Val darted out and past the horses while Pudge tugged at the locked door of the carriage, as if he was trying to break in. He whooped in elation and then Val held the fake censer high above her head, but just for a moment.

"I got it! I got the censer!" she shouted, and then she darted back into the alleyway with Pudge hot on her heels.

Three or four men were dismounted after them in a hurry. Val didn't get a very good count because she was sprinting down a slippery alleyway, skating across little slicks of filth and muck when the friction gave way and dodging around patches of broken glass and assorted piles of wreckage and waste. At least they weren't in Burrowing Rounds, where the midden piles sometimes stretched up to the second and third floors of buildings and most of the alleyways were completely impassable.

Despite their size, the men who pursued them were obviously professional soldiers. They dashed down narrow passageways that Val would have sworn Pudge could barely fit through, let alone a broad, armored man a head and a half taller than him. But the men caught up quickly, one of them grabbing Pudge and slamming him against a slimy brick wall.

Val was faster than Pudge, obviously. Her breath sucking in sour air, her heart pounding in her chest, she sprinted to an intersection in the alleyway and ducked under a little side-gate that the larger men clearly couldn't fit through. For one glorious instant, she thought she was home free, only to have a strong hand grasp her by the jacket and drag her back through, her shoulders scraping painfully against the jagged edges of the wood.

She was about to plead innocence when she was lifted off her feet and thrown against the wall. Thrown hard enough that she saw colors, even though her jacket slipped up and managed to protect her head. Mostly. Val came to her senses in time to see a large and angry man pulling back to deliver a blow that, if she was lucky, would only knock a few teeth loose. She brought her hands up, knowing full well she was utterly at his mercy.

"Rez! Rez, It's not the censer!" one of the soldiers said.

"Fuck!"

The man pushed Val back against the slick, rock-hard brick and snarled, but he did not strike her. Then, just like that, the three soldiers dashed back down the alleyway and toward the bishop's carriage. Val pulled herself to her feet, rubbed the back of her head, and glanced to her left.

"Oh Pudge…"

Pudge was in a bad way. He blinked at her from one eye, the other already swollen shut. He'd lost a few teeth and his mouth was a bloody mess. If Val had to guess, his jaw was broken, and his left arm was at an odd angle. He needed a healer, and quickly. If they could buy a healing potion with their shilling, those teeth would grow back. Otherwise, Pudge would probably never chew on that side of his mouth.

"Can you stand?"

"Yesh," Pudge mumbled back, though he took some help to get himself up. They proceeded back through the alleyway, limping one step at a time. Even in their dire situation, neither of them was foolish enough to venture back out to the intersection, where the soldiers could well be waiting and angry that their bishop had been kidnapped. That assumed that Ette had even managed to pull it off.

+++++

Val thought about going to the herbalist's shop, but she didn't think they stocked potions. It was also too close to Ette's place, and they'd been instructed to stay a few blocks away. If you didn't follow instructions, you might not get the second half of your chits.

She knew a place, though. There was a house run by the Faithful Order of Convalescents not too far from there. Sure, they were Pale Order, but they weren't all bad people. Once upon a time, she'd picked up chits from them a few days running until Ms. Lavoie discovered they were taking blood from the orphans in exchange for chits and she banned them from her operation.

Val didn't see what the big deal was. It hadn't been very much blood.

They used the blood for their healing potions. You could use blood for just about anybody, but children's' blood was apparently the best, and so they preferred that. The monks had been very careful not to take too much and had even given them snacks while they waited (inside!) for the phlembothecary to prepare. Most of their convalescents were old people with chronic conditions who couldn't get much help from a healing potion, but Val hoped they'd take in Pudge in a pinch.

"We're almost there," she said.

It felt like she was dragging Pudge along, but Val knew that he was heavy enough that if he wasn't putting in most of the effort in stumbling forward she wouldn't be able to budge him. Not that Val was weak. She was strong for her size, but Pudge weighed close to twice what she did. Blood was still dribbling from his mouth, soaking into her jacket just above where the fake censer had left its resinous stain. She hoped Ginn didn't want the thing back, because it was sitting back in an alleyway somewhere.

Two seconds. If that Pale Order soldier had noticed the fake censer two seconds later, she'd have been in as bad a spot as Pudge or worse. She might well have been beaten to death.

"We're almost there," Val said again. This time, they were really almost there.

They rounded the corner to the convalescent house. It lay along Dunsinay Way, which was modestly busy in this part of town. People gasped and stared as Val helped Pudge along the way, past the iron fence protecting the little herb garden and up the five stone steps to the main entrance. It occurred to Val that a convalescent house ought to have a more accessible entrance. People gasped and stared, but nobody helped. Not a one.

Val knocked twice and, when nobody answered, she saw herself in. She entered just in time to encounter a Brother of the Faithful Order of Convalescents hurrying to the door. She could tell he was a brother because of the shaved sides of his head. Otherwise, unlike the cowl-clad brothers at St. Gaspard Abbey, the brothers didn't dress any differently from regular folk. They always dressed plainly, of course - they took a vow of poverty, which meant no brother owned more than he could carry on his person and any money he accepted went to the church. They could still trade in favors, though, and often did.

"Girl, you can't be in h-" the brother started. "Oh… your friend is hurt! What happened?"

"We got jumped by a trio of toughs," Val said. Technically, that was true. "They said we stole something when we didn't. They sure were sore about it, though." Again, all technically true. Unlike most orphans, Val preferred not to peddle in fibs because, sooner or later, they caught up to you. It also felt like something you just ought not to do on general principle. Selective truths, though, she could manage.

The brother lifted Pudge's swollen lip to examine his ruined mouth. There was still blood oozing out, but it had slowed quite a lot. Pudge winced and sucked in air, which made him wince even more. The brother tutted disapprovingly, as if it was Pudge's fault he'd got his mouth and arm broken, and crouched to Val's face level. She hated when people did that. She was small, but she wasn't a baby.

"It's a good thing you got here when you did. A healing potion ought to restore most of the damage within a few hours. His teeth might even grow all the way back. But I'll need a favor from you, little miss…"

"My name's Val. You need blood… why not just take his? It's still dribbling out."

"Very insightful, Val, but I'm afraid it doesn't work that way. Blood coming out of a wound has already lost most of its vigor. It needs to come from circulation or it won't contain enough sanguine humour to be of any use. So here's what I propose, Val…"

"You'll take enough of my blood for a few potions and, in return, you'll give Pudge a finished one?"

The brother looked pleased. "Yes, exactly right, Val. Aren't you clever! And before you fret, we only need a dram per potion - that's hardly any! We'll take eight or nine drams in one of our phlebolics and you'll never miss it."

One healing potion… likely an older potion without its full vigor… in exchange for enough blood for eight or nine fresh potions? It didn't sound like a very fair exchange to Val, but she wasn't exactly in a prime bargaining position. She rolled up her sleeve and waited for Brother Oswald - that was his name - to make the preparations. Meanwhile, another brother set Pudge's jaw and arm - they had to be set or else the potion would heal them crooked. From the sound of it, the jaw was a lot more painful than the arm.

"Is Pudge alright?"

The brother nodded. "He's passed out - it's for the best." He finished setting Pudge's jaw and then poured the potion down his gullet, making sure to get some right on the bloody gums where he'd lost the teeth. There was immediate fizzling and bubbling, but the brother closed Pudge's mouth before Val got to see any teeth re-emerge.

"No discomfort, I hope?" Brother Oswald asked.

Val shook her head - it pinched a bit at first, but he'd applied a dab of something that numbed the skin. She watched in fascination as her crimson blood dribbled into the little phlebolic. Brother Oswald slowly worked a pump, which provided just enough gentle suction to pull blood out of Val without the blood knowing it wasn't inside her anymore. She wondered whether blood was a liquid like water or made out of lots of tiny bits like a swarm of ants. She figured it was probably a bit of both because she'd seen the brothers spin phials of blood down on their big foot-pedal spinner to separate the clear from the red, each of which had different uses.

"All done!" Oswald said. He slipped the needle out of Val and dabbed at her elbow with a bit of gauze.

Another brother took the phlebolic and shuffled back into the recesses of the convalescent house. The whole place smelled of healing balms and cleaning agents, which didn't quite manage to mask the pervasive stench of sickness wafting out from the Poor Soul's Ward, which is where people went to die. Somewhere not too far off, the brothers were taking their afternoon meal, and Val couldn't help her stomach's rumbling. It had been a busy day since morning's oat-cakes and porridge.

"Would you like a snack?"

"Yesh pleash," Pudge said.

"Not you, young man. No chewing until suppertime. But I'll give you something for the road, all right?"

+++++

Thirty minutes later, they were back out on the streets. Val was busy destroying her third cheese and sausage biscuit - easily the best thing she'd had in weeks - while Pudge held his trove close to his chest. He opened his mouth, wincing a bit as he tapped against the tip of a tooth barely breaking the gumline.

If Val recalled - and she had a very good memory - it took a few minutes for wounds to seal, a few hours for bones to knit, and a few days for teeth to finish growing. She didn't understand the vagaries of healing magic.

She wasn't sure anybody did, really, though the brothers seemed to think it was a blessing from their god, whom they simply called 'almighty', though they also used 'King of the Dawn' and 'The Risen King' to refer to him in slightly different contexts. She'd learned all of this during her stay in one of the Pale Order orphanages, but she'd never taken it to heart. Val wasn't the least bit religious and would change her mind if and when the almighty Himself (He was definitely a He, the monks were always careful to assert) gave Val proof positive.

"Do you think I can chew yet?" Pudge asked.

"Sure, if you don't want your jaw to mend right. You probably shouldn't even be talking."

Pudge grumbled but said nothing, which was probably wise.

They made their way back to Resonant Square, keeping a careful eye out for any of the red- and blue-clad Knights of the Penitent Order. If there was anybody keeping an eye out for two distraction-providing orphans, they were being very discreet. They knocked on the door to Vinzenno Security & Investigation and, just when Val was about to enter after her second knock, Ginn opened the door.

"Did Mr. Vinzenno make off with… his goods?" Val asked, realizing that she might not want to explicitly name the bishop. People might be listening.

"He did," Ginn said. "Went off without a hitch."

Val didn't ask how she knew. Presumably, Enne hadn't circled back around with the unconscious bishop over his shoulder. But, if they'd been working together for some time, she imagined Enne and Ginn had some sort of signaling system.

Ginn swished back around to behind her business desk and retrieved their four half-chits and one shilling, sliding them across the desk. Val couldn't help but notice that hers were not the hands of a woman who did most of her work behind a desk - short fingernails and at least five or six small scars across the back of her hands. She imagined that, if they were to shake hands, she would feel the tough callouses of somebody who wasn't afraid of hard work. Her dark hair was done up in the sort of tight braid that women who sometimes got into fights seemed to like.

Ginn peered at them over her reading glasses. "Looks like you two didn't get out unscathed. Are you two all right?"

"I got busted up… had to use a healing potion," Pudge said. He pulled his lip down to show where he'd lost teeth. Despite the healing potion, it still looked impressively gruesome. Within two days, it would probably look as good a new.

"A hazard of the job, I'm afraid," Ginn said. "You did good, though. For your hardship, I'll throw a pair of tuppence in for both of you. How does that sound?"

"Very good, Miss Ginn," Val said.

"It's Mrs. Vinzenno," Ginn said. She shrugged. "Ginn is fine, though. All right, off with the lot of you. Stop by in a few days when Mr. Vinzenno is back. It might be we'll have more work for a pair of enterprising youngsters."

Val and Pudge made their way through the Green Procession and back to Ms. Lavoie's House for Orphaned Children, each of them two chits, one shilling, and four pence richer. Val clutched the silver shilling in her fist, humming as she imagined the new shoes she'd buy with it. Shoes that would keep her feet dry all winter.

Val was blissfully unaware that her life had already inalterably changed.