4 The Homeless

Helen found out everything in the time it took them to drink what they had. She said she didn't have any money, but she knew a man who had. They were desperate for more booze, and in the situation she was in, Serenica would have brought him up herself sooner or later.

"Please don't say his name," Serenica said. "I want to live in a world where his name isn't Roinar."

Roinar, as his name suggested, was a common man, not particularly noteworthy in any way, as alcoholism was as common as his name. He always seemed to have some gold to spare, but he was stingy about it. Serenica couldn't fathom why Helen always brought him up when they needed something.

"I know what you're thinking," Helen said.

"Yet you put that dirty name in your mouth anyway. Don't you remember his hands? How they travel up your sleeve and further? Don't you remember how his breath smells like rotten meat?"

"Mother of worms, Serenica," Helen cursed. "You can't be this prideful. Besides, at least it's not your bloody sleeve he's climbing."

"If you don't care for your honor, it's fine, just don't expect me to watch."

"You'd rather live on the street and fix up drunkards for food? Where's your ambition, woman?"

"All right, all right, all right. We'll go to him. We'll go to him today."

"Today? But we're drunk!" Helen protested.

"Exactly. I can't stand him when I'm sober."

Serenica could hardly call her current state drunken, but it was better to pretend drunkenness than to fake sobriety, at least when it came to meeting Roinar.

The man didn't live modestly or lavishly, he just lived, and he drank, even as his liver was slowly failing and turning him yellow in color, and his den of wickedness was a house on the top of a certain hill. Serenica wondered how he found the strength to climb the hill while hungover.

A knock on his door revealed that he was awake. He shouted and cursed with terrible words until Helen yelled back:"It's us, your favorite girls!"

An ugly, beastly face appeared in the window. Roinar opened the door.

Truthfully, Serenica was appalled by her own disgust. She'd treated worse people, yet there was something so very annoying in the man's lack of cooperation.

"You're no favorite of mine, but you'll do," Roinar said, grinning.

"Then what can we do to dethrone your new girls?" Helen asked.

That woman had some gall.

"Firstly, you gotta dye your hair red," the man replied.

"New and astonishing desires indeed," Serenica commented, the illusion of inebriation encouraging her. "I recall a time when you couldn't name anything sweeter than the contrast of my skin upon Helen's."

"You were the best ones around, but no longer. What are you two even up to? I smell no booze on Helen's breath, and that is no way to be. Not when it rains."

"It's exactly that," Serenica said. "We need booze."

"How much?"

Serenica told him the exact amount she needed for rent.

"Are you pulling my damned leg? That's enough to get half of Neul drunk!"

"It is costly to have lots of ladies as friends," Serenica said with all the confidence of a gambler. She was no gambling woman.

"Some ladies you must know indeed!"

Serenica felt a strong urge to punch Roinar in his filthy mouth.

"Doesn't matter, doesn't matter, as I don't have the money for two ladies, not at that price, let alone a whole brothel!"

The urge got worse and worse and Helen seemed to know, since she so considerately placed her hand on Serenica's right arm. She stepped up and became the spokeswoman for their cause.

"Roinar, darling, we could settle for half of it. We'll just swindle our way through the other half."

"Half of a fortune's still half a fortune."

"Roinar, dear! No reason to be so stingy. We all know you're a very rich man."

"If those lips do nothing but beg for impossibilities, you'd better close 'em and get going. I have a life to ruin." Roinar sounded like he was very serious about that.

"We need at least the price of a bottle," Serenica said, finally in control of herself. "We'll ask the homeless witches."

"That's a sane person right there!" Roinar shouted. He was prone to shouting even when there was no reason for it. He was very loud, abrasive at worst.

He liked to think about drunk women.

"Is this a deal?" Serenica asked. "I'll pay you back in, say, three days, if you give us enough for a bottle."

"Go and get wasted."

Roinar gave her some coins.

As they made their way back down the hill, Helen gave Serenica a scalding look.

"You're no negotiator. Why give up so easily?"

"Helen, dearest, he wasn't about to fund my entire life. At least we can drink. Gods know I need it now."

Serenica wanted to search the Blue Girl again, but only after visiting the witches. The homeless witches on Miser Street were easy enough to find.

One sat across a wooden bench, another sprawled on his lap, and two women were playing cards in the grass.

The wind blew away the King of Spades. Serenica caught it.

"Ingram, the bane of my existence," a tall man greeted her.

Serenica did not remember his name.

"Whatever I have done, I have done it in the name of healing. And getting rich," she said.

"I can tell that. Best one in Neul! Ha! Did you ever think that by shining so bright, you'd outshine all others?"

"Not my bloody fault." Serenica was used to this. It was a common way of speech among witches.

"Perhaps you should lift yourself, then," Helen suggested in a manner way too bold for an uninitiated laywoman.

"Oh, shut up, girlie. I bet you can't even scry," the tall man said.

"I can't. What is your point?"

Helen still seemed a bit agitated. Serenica felt a rush of tenderness towards her. They had always looked out for each other. Helen was only thinking about what was best for her friend.

"Helen, we're not looking for arguments, we're looking for moonshine, the cheapest one can drink without going blind."

"Moonshine? You should have said that way back! I'm assuming you have the money," the tall man said. "Ledula, go fetch a bottle for the charming young lovebirds."

"We're not a couple," Serenica insisted.

Ledula left the card game, as she was losing, anyway, and disappeared into a nearby shack.

The tall man bent down and lowered his voice.

"I hear rumors that lots of witches are in trouble. Nasty sorts of things happening. Unarmed men and women, shot in their own bedrooms. Evictions without a proper cause. I hope for your sake, Ingram, that you don't deal with the paw or the shepherd."

Serenica swallowed loudly. She dealt with both, and even though the good shepherd was far more harmless, it was known too widely now. It was known for its ability to open eyes where there were none. Serenica had tried to scry with it with little success.

"Oh, for heaven's sake. You have no self-preservation instinct."

"It's pretty hard to heal people if they're in too much pain to drag their buttocks to me."

"In any case, do you know who's behind this?"

"Tell me."

"This information costs you nothing. I only ask you to stay loyal. Do not, under any circumstances, take her side."

"Who is she?"

"Mariana Kinley. The head bitch of the kennel. Wants to be the only witch around."

Serenica laughed. "Kinley? A witch! She loves doctors! She practically breathes modern medicine!"

"And what do you think to be the reason for that? She's a witch, we've seen her take our things. The city watch works for her. Make no mistake – same colors, gray and red."

The realization sank into Serenica with the force of thousand arrows.

Kinley, a witch. Magical supplies and objects stolen on the pretense of protecting the public from psychoactive drugs. Someone hoarding the stolen items. Someone profiting from the misery of witches. Kinley, a traitor, a robber, a murderer.

Serenica vaguely remembered seeing the fair woman in the nicer parts of the city. She had indeed worn the same iconic colors that were repeated in the uniforms of those violent men. Stone gray and blood red. She had smiled and acted so smoothly, but behind the smile had been something cold and ravenous, like the dead eye of a shark.

"She's a witch, but why she hates us so, I can't tell you. I wish I knew."

Helen had been silent for quite a while. Her eyes darted from the man who knew things to Serenica and back again. It was clear that she had lots of questions.

Ledula came back, though, and it seemed like the man didn't want to talk anymore.

Serenica paid for the bottle. She left with Helen and they made their way towards Tanner Street.