Deep in the Heart of the City

Cloaked in the fading light of the dying sun, Adina and Ravi made their way through the town in complete silence. Adina had once again assumed her guise as the mentally challenged girl, but her thoughts were sharp, wondering why Ravi needed her for this particular mission.

It's not that she didn't want to go, or that she didn't want to work with Ravi. In fact, she considers it an honor. Ravi is capable and competent--a true warrior within. With his skills in short-range combat, he could handle the entire exchange easily. So why did he say that he NEEDED her?

That's what really tickled her brain. Did he really need her or did he just want her company? All he had to do was ask.

She let herself admire him as they traverse the burgeoning crowd. She had to walk a few yards behind him so they couldn't be associated with each other, but she could clearly see him from her position. She would know that head and those broad shoulders anywhere; the sunset dancing on his hair calls to her like the beacon lights of the sea watch.

He's a proud man, that Ravi. He could be gruff and bossy at times, but there was something oddly soothing about his presence. Like how you know he only scolds because he cares, and how you can just *be* in the folds of his silence.

Adina mentally slapped herself out of it once they reached the trading center. Ravi had tensed, his ears perking up even as he remained facing forward; Adina too felt the wrongness in the air. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but there was something amiss. Something that shouldn't be there, or something that should be there but isn't.

The unease hung on her like a heavy cloak even as they reached the entrance to the canal. In this underground maze, she discarded her disguise, squaring her shoulders and keeping her senses sharp in case of a fight.

They walked for what felt like hours, their naked eyes their only guide in the dark, until they reached the biggest cavern where all manner of black market merchants have set up camp. This was the heart of the sewer system, far enough from the waste water except when it floods. It smelled dank and the atmosphere was eerie, with only half a dozen torches to give them light.

The merchants numbered close to 20, but she and Ravi headed straight for the bald man in the back. He stood up from his seat as they approached, appraising them with keen but tired eyes from head to toe. Adina had never met this man before--the sellers change every time--but if the angel wings on his bicep was anything to go by, they should be just fine.

"The angel sees," the man said in greeting.

"The angel knows," Ravi whispered in reply.

"And the angel shall command justice in flood and fire both." Adina finished the sentence.

The man relaxed his stance and handed them an entire crate of goods. At the same time, Ravi handed him the bag of loot.

"Thank you." His sudden exclamation surprised Adina. "These will be useful in procuring food for our village."

"And thank you." Ravi replied. "These will help a lot of people."

Adina looked over Ravi's shoulder at what they have: root crops, fruits, vegetables, so many loaves of bread, but mostly roots and herbs that could be turned into medicine. A large yellow flower in particular caught her eye--its velvety petals resemble a lion's mane if you look closely enough.

Fresh dandy-lions, she whispered in admiration. These are rare. Extremely rare. Useful for many things.

"Use them well," said the merchant, who had heard her. "Now go, and Goddess protect you."

After another eternity in putrid darkness, they finally emerged at the street of the poor house.

Adina was rooted to the spot. Not only because of the appalling conditions of the place, but the sheer number of people scattered around it. They had doubled since she was last here, with hundreds of women and children huddling together to keep warm.

For a social center, it was unusually devoid of noise. There was no yapping or nagging or complaining, only the coughs and cries of those in anguish. Everywhere she looked, the people seemed to be at death's door. Their faces were wan, their cheeks hollow, and their eyes glossed over.

"What on earth happened around here?" She exclaimed, still frozen in her shoes.

"Some kind of epidemic. I heard they came down with it last week and since then, they have been quarantined here."

"With no help?"

"Well, we're here aren't we?"

Adina and Ravi immediately got to work, distributing food to each pale hand and asking them about their symptoms. The common answers were itchy skin, abdominal pain, partial and complete loss of vision. They felt hungry and thirsty all the time, but could not keep anything down, and any time they try to stand up, they fall helplessly onto the ground.

Hearing this, Adina immediately asked some unaffected men to get some pots and build a fire. She did not know how she knew what to do, only that she did. Her fingers moved on its own accord, grabbing herbs and stirring the cauldron as if she had ancient knowledge in her bones.

"Give each affected person a spoonful," she ordered the men still standing around her, and got to work herself by tending to the children.

"How did you do that?" Ravi asked when they were back at the headquarters.

"It's uncanny. You always know what to make to cure an ailment." He added, admiration evident in his voice.

Adina did not answer. She looked sullen instead of embarrassed or proud.

"I did not save them," she confessed. "It only took away their pain, but it was not a cure."

Ravi laid a hand on her shoulder. "We gave it our all. It's the best we can do for them."

"Maybe." She sighed, looking out the window. In the distance, she could see a singular glimmer of light— a light coming from The Grand Palace in the capital. A single tear escaped her eye.

How different their lives must be from the people here. No poverty, no sickness, no thievery. What would she give to have a life just like that.

Then she shook her head. Violently. As if to toss the thought away. "All the riches in the world don't matter if you have no compassion in your heart," she mused.

So she laid on the balcony, tilted her head to the stars, and tried to sleep. She tried not to think of the faces of those women and children—to think of a better future instead—and failed miserably.