Laying the Foundations [Completed]

[Artemis Black]

“That, is probably not a half bad idea. Though, I can write pretty well if you tell me what the words are,” he said to her with a wry smile. When she mentioned the shop name he snorted in amusement. “Of course it is, he’d never been one for creativity outside of fashion. And your skills have been more profitable than a whole slew of spells for me at least,” Artemis retorted to her lack of confidence in her talents.

He strode into the shop with his finest Northman’s swagger. There were no customers, and there was something pleasing about swinging his hips about in a high class manner that felt vulgar. He was pleased when Ksenia took charge of the conversation with Mr. O’Dell. She was showing more initiative as she grew more comfortable. She’d certainly need it in the coming months if they were going to expand their operations.

“Of course Ksenia, Mr. Black has quite a lot of friends you’ll find,” Mr. O’Dell said to her with a smile for the thief. “As for the Dirge house, I’ve seen the latest request for servant’s cloth. Were you planning to assume their place, or act as a privately hired persons?” the haberdasher asked, as if talking about a ribbon to pair with a hat.

Artemis nodded to Mr. O’Dell as he peppered the woman with questions. It seemed he’d be able to help them after all.

[Ksenia]

Ksenia grinned. Clearly Mr. O’Dell was much more comfortable with Artemis’s world than she’d first thought. “Private contractors. Easier if they aren’t expecting someone they’ve seen much before.” She thought about it. “We’d need outfits for Mr. Black here, and his lady, Katarya. I dare say you’ve met her.” He looked confused. “A little taller than Mr. Black, dark hair, and might drown if we had a bad storm?”

Mr. O’Dell gave her a flat look. “That describes a large portion of my female clientele. You’ll have to be more specific.”

“She probably would have come in with Mr. Black?” Ksenia pointed out, slightly annoyed.

“Ah yes. I think I might remember her. I’d need measurements in any case, so she would need to come in,” he replied. “And for you?”

“I’m just support. I’d only get in the way, so no need for anything there.” She thought for a moment. “Can I see the orders from Lord Dirge’s?”

“Certainly, they’ll be in the back.” Mr. O’Dell turned to go into his back room and Ksenia followed. Artemis was fussing with his shoes again and wouldn’t notice her disappearance.

“Sorry for intruding but I’ll make it quick: the plan is short on details and long on luck. If something goes wrong, I will have to step in.” Ksenia cornered Mr. O’Dell by his desk, speaking in a quick but hushed voice. “Do you have a lady’s gown in something close to my size that would be here in four days’ time? And what, if anything, do you know about a Miss Inessa Marcant?”

She watched as Mr. O’Dell’s face went from concerned, to thoughtful, to an odd mixture of anger and bitterness. “Inessa Marcant, the disinherited daughter of the house of Peter Marcant, who never pays her bills and runs through men like cheap ale?”

Ksenia sighed. Mam was still at it, it sounded. “Yes. Her. Is she in town, do you know?”

“I believe I heard she left for Ajatiere several days ago. Didn’t pay for her last gown over at my colleague’s shop either.” He blew out a breath and paused, turning to look at Ksenia. “Wait. You look-”

Ksenia stepped close, her glare fierce. “Don’t. Say. Anything. I know who I look like.” She swallowed hard, and took a step back. “Please. Don’t tell Mr. Black any of this, not even your suspicions. He doesn’t need to know, and I’d prefer he didn’t.”

“As you like.” Mr. O’Dell shuffled through a few papers and handed her one. “Here’s the order for the servants’ cloth. You can take it back out front if you wish.”

“Thank you.” Ksenia caught his eye and held it for a moment before she turned and headed back out. “What does their usual livery look like?”

[Artemis Black]

Artemis noticed Ksenia take Mr. O’Dell into the backroom. He also noticed there was a distinct lack of boxes moving and paper shuffling for several moments. He’d ignore whatever she was doing for now. If it was important to their dealings he trusted her to share. Instead of prying, he busied himself with practicing his dance steps. They were unwieldy, and stilted, but he found he could at least remember the forms.

As he moved around the shop he found himself whistling a gentle birdsong. Ever since he’d seen the elf at lunch he couldn’t get the practice out of his head. That old drunkard of an elf had taught it to him, as well as several very rude elven words, when Artemis shared the man’s fire.

He’d not really interacted with an elf directly since the man froze to death one brutal winter. Artemis felt a slight pang of sadness. He searched his memories for the drunkard’s favorite song and let it move through him. {Time. Ocean. Love. Lost. Pain. Hurt. Moon. Dark.}

When his associates had returned to the front he stopped abruptly. “Welcome back, I take it we have what we’ll need. If we can move on to the clothier’s there’s still a good deal to do this evening,” he said, softening his words with a grin. Artemis tilted his head and chuckled suddenly, “Kessy?” he offered to the air above his head, as if feeling the word in his mouth.

[Ksenia]

“Kessy?” Ksenia laughed. “Sure, Arty.” Well, it was better than a lot of other things she’d been called before. “And I think with Mr. O’Dell’s help, we’re about as well off as we can be right now. Let’s head on, and I’ll see Mr. O’Dell tomorrow.” She handed Mr. O’Dell back the order and smiled. “Until tomorrow, then, Mr. O’Dell.”

“Until tomorrow, Ksenia.” He nodded to her and returned to the ledger he’d set aside earlier.

Ksenia and Artemis left the store. “So is there more to that whistling than just pretty sounds? Is it some kind of elven greeting?” She paused. “That would explain part of why I’ve never seemed to have a good impression on them.”

They headed through the North district and turned into the East. “I’m looking forward to this clothier’s shop, and not just because I’m in desperate need of clothing that isn’t falling apart. You said they may have some less expensive fabric, and that’s what I need for the pocket I’m making for M- my friend.” She swallowed hard as her vision became a bit glassy. She would not cry; it wouldn’t help Marcy in the slightest anyway.

Tossing her head back, she continued. “Anyway, the Goose family isn’t going to want silk work clothes and fancy frippery. I’d rather get a bit for me, and others, if they ask me for things. At least I wouldn’t have to wait long before getting started if I have a bit of stock.” She worried a torn bit of skin on the edge of her finger.

They continued on to the shop and Artemis pushed the door open. He was going to give the proprietress here fits walking in, dressed like he was now. Ksenia suspected that was part of the appeal.

[Artemis Black]

He laughed when she snapped his own nickname back at him. “It’s either that are Kess, and I’m not going around making kissing noises at you." He gave her a side eye, and when she didn't have anything further he considered the name set. "Glad to hear you’ve finished your business,” Artemis said and gave a tip of his tophat to Mr. O’Dell, who merely smiled warmly in response.

He adopted a more relaxed version of his northman’s walk as they moved. It wouldn’t do to appear over rich when they finally reached the east district after all. He was not looking forward to the first pickpocket who tried him. “I need a good cane, something with some heft,” he idly mused as his boots clicked along the cobbles. He’d managed to get them to tap out a near rhythm by taking quick stutter steps when needed without disrupting his stride.

“It’s a birdsong. A language of its own, though with concepts more than words. I don’t know if it’s unique to elves, but a drunk one taught it to me long ago. I’ve only really encountered a few others who recognized it in the city. I think it’s something their rangers use in the wilds,” he said before whistling a few quick words. {Greeting. Safe. Friend.} “Kind of means, hello I am friendly,” he explained. "It took me years to get past simple whistling, but it never really goes away once you have the knack."

“Yes, it’s a wonderful place to find a good deal of things. I’ll need to attach a rope so you don’t sink beneath a crashing wave of fabrics,” he said offering her another smile. She was much easier to talk to when there weren’t things constantly threatening his life. “And don’t worry, Mar’s still alive. Otherwise, my spine would be in a bone golem. Robert’s putting something together to get her out I think. Will take him a few more days. Cook might even get involved,” Artemis elaborated before patting Ksenia on the shoulder gently.

When she flinched from his touch he held his hand up to calm her. “Oh, still not on patting terms. Alright, get Deb to work on that maybe.” He tapped his tooth with an overly large grin at her.

⁂

Their trip into the east district had only involved him glaring down two groups of pickpockets and catching a single wrist. He imagined it was because of the noise he made, despite appearing to walk at a normal pace. The offbeat clicking likely messed with the focused attention of less experienced street walkers.

When they approached the clothier, Artemis pointed to the ragged sign overhead that read 'The Discerning Maiden' above a poorly painted rendition of what might have once been a cow.. “Guess I might as well know this one too, but after we’re a good ways away. Can’t have the Miss sassing me more than she already does,” he said as he opened the door to the shop.

The inside of the shop was musty and oppressive. From barely a foot into the door stood racks near to bursting with second-hand clothing. Artemis had frequented the place many times in his career. It helped to blend in with the working folks when you were trying to be invisible during the day time.

He seemed to be setting a series of firsts for entering the shop in a certain state of dress. Only a few days prior it had been in his small clothes and boots. Now he was walking in looking as though he could buy the entire block with his dinner money.

“Miss Turley?" he called out over the racks of clothes. “I’ve brought another lovely young lady looking to get into my pants and make me a better man,” he said to the open air. There was only a sharp cackle in reply from the back room. Artemis turned to Ksenia. “You’re welcome to browse for salvage, the actual cloth is on that far wall, anything else ask Miss Turley,” he explained as he moved deeper into the labyrinth of second hand clothes.

[Ksenia]

“It’s not- I mean, I-” Ksenia stuttered. She didn’t mind him touching her, necessarily; anyone touching her made her slightly uncomfortable. Until Deb had fed on her last night, no one had touched her in a friendly fashion for years. Even that had seemed like a luxury far too dear, and potentially too costly. If she let herself accept other people, let them be close...then they were close enough to drive a knife into her gut, metaphorically or otherwise.

Ksenia read the sign as they walked in. Why would anyone put those two concepts together on a sign? He called for a Miss Turley and made a rude comment that had Ksenia gaping at him. “I’m not even remotely trying to do that!” she called after him. She thought she heard him chuckle as he turned behind a rack of clothes.

Heading for the far wall, Ksenia smiled widely at the stacks of linen, thick wool, and linsey-woolsey. Feeling the fabrics, she found a piece about two yards that would do well for the pocket she planned to make for Marcy (and soon most of the other wenches at the Goose; she’d seen them eyeing hers). A lighter linen, about six yards or so, would be perfect for new underdresses. She flung the two pieces over her shoulder and kept browsing.

She found a piece of thick wool about two yards long, big enough to cover a bed in a remarkably even black color. Further searching turned up short pieces that might make a hat, but nothing large. The linsey-woolsey was smaller, ragged pieces that might work for a child’s tunic, but not for her.

Ksenia turned to the looming racks of clothes. She picked a rack at random and started flipping through it. Too damaged, too stained, too thin - she passed by them in search of something better. She found a long dress in a faded blue - not her favorite color, but it looked warm, and it had long sleeves. She shuffled through the clothes, finding two sleeveless dresses, much like the one she wore, made of a heavier linen and wool. She added them to her pile, which threatened to climb her head. There was one wool dress that had been ripped short, but the sleeves would work nicely on the sleeveless dress.

At the end of the row, Ksenia staggered out toward the counter. “Can I just make a pile on the counter?” she called.

“Do what you will, dearie,” a voice answered.

Ksenia slung the pile on the counter and went to find Artemis. “Arty!” she yelled. A snicker from somewhere in the racks to the left. She tried to whistle, but it came out as a hiss. Laughing, Artemis appeared in front of her. She studied him appraisingly, noting the length of his legs and the breadth of his shoulders. He shot her a curious look before she dove into the racks again.

Half an hour’s searching turned up two pairs of dark wool trousers, a pair in linen, three shirts in different colors, a wool doublet that might have had embroidery on it once, and a heavy cloak that would come down past Artemis’s knees. He stared at her as she threw the pile onto the counter. “Now...do you know if there’s stockings and hats and such here?” Ksenia leaned on the counter heavily.

“Toward the front there,” the voice - presumably Miss Turley - directed. Ksenia tossed a quick “thank you” toward the voice and waded in. She grabbed two pairs of wool stockings for each of them, a lovely red wool hat that came low over the back of her head, and a pair of shoes that weren’t worn to bits.

“There!” Ksenia collapsed on the counter with her bounty. “That should hold us - er, Artemis and me, for a while.” Miss Turley made her way to the counter and began to assess the pile of clothes. Ksenia felt nervous; she hoped that she had enough coin for her purchases, at least.

“So, you never did answer my question. What did you think of Dáire? Tall, good-looking? Or is he not your type, considering you’re with Deb and her, ah, generous assets?” He leaned against the counter, a grin on his face as he mimed jiggling Deb’s large breasts.

“He’s an elf, so no, not my type, and I am rather sure I wouldn’t be his type either. And I’m not sure what you mean by “with” Deb,” she replied, her brow wrinkling. “I’m not...sleeping with her, if that’s what you’re implying. I told her before she fed. I don’t want to...go there.”

Ksenia wrapped her arms around herself. It was probably a joke of the idols that the daughter of Inessa Marcant, the Tyvirian every-man’s-mount, was a virgin. Granted, that status was something she’d actively tried to keep, despite the rough attentions of Mam’s hangers-on and once, her target himself. The day after she’d told Mam about what he’d done - and what he’d tried to do - she found herself alone. She shivered at the memory.

[Artemis Black]

He was enjoying forcing Ksenia to react to him. It seemed to prod a more relaxed and snappy woman out of the usually reserved and quiet one. ‘Can use that fire if I can get it pointed properly away from me,’ he thought as he moved along a collection of heavy sailor’s coats. He jumped when she shouted his nickname, but managed to duck into the racks to pop out in front of her without too much trouble. ‘Can’t expect to avoid some minor burns I guess,’ he figured as she clearly took his measure.

He’d only managed to get himself a big heavy coat when Ksenia seemed to finish her picking. Most of the better winter clothing had long disappeared he imagined. He was discovering she was like some sort of fiery maiden. Kept safe from the grasping fingers of men, likely at no shortage of trouble and occasional violence.

“If anyone gives you trouble, just tell bitey. She’s like a dragon, or a bear, when it comes to the things she treasures,” he said, trying to pull Ksenia out of the obviously unhappy thoughts she was exploring.

“Miss Turley, I’m a free man today, so I can’t be offering you any Goose down. What do you measure this pile of scrap would cost us?” he said as the old woman tottered out of the back room. She scowled at him but he knew this song and dance. There was little heat behind the expression, he’d brought her far too much business simply be being himself.

“For you, I’d say 5 silver. For the poor lady here, trying to beat you into shape, I could do a silver and twenty copper,” Miss Turley said offering Ksenia a pitying look. Despite her words, there was laughter in her eyes and the hints of a grin at the corners of her mouth.

“We’ll take the charity,” Artemis said, fishing out the necessary coins and looking to Ksenia. “If you want to don any of this now, do so.” He said, offering her a smile and gathering some strips of waste fabric piled to the side of the desk. Once she’d finished, he took her extras and in a few short moments he’d made a tightly wrapped bundle of cloth inside his heavy coat.

“Now, we away to the bank. Like proper folks,” he said, lifting the bundle onto his back and tipping his hat to Miss Turley’s retreating form.

[Ksenia]

“Bitey? You mean Deb?” Ksenia gave a short, humorless laugh. “Nothing she could do, anyway.” She glanced away from the counter as Artemis chatted with the older lady and paid for their clothes. Taking the long blue dress, she slipped inside a fitting room and stripped off her old clothes, more stitches giving up as she did. She slid the wool dress over her head. It was a bit itchy, but it would be fine once she had some underdresses to go with it. She handed her old clothes to Artemis to put in his bundle.

“To the bank, then?” Ksenia followed him out the door. “You said they work with the fishermen’s guild. I hope they’ll be able to deal with a small account such as mine is likely to be.” They walked a little further down the streets, much less even here in the East district than the streets in the North. “By the way, Miss Turley’s shop is called ‘The Discerning Maiden’, although why she paired that with what looks like a cow on that sign is beyond my understanding.”

A sign with a fish atop a pile of coins marked the squatty stone building as the bank Artemis had mentioned. For the East district, it was an imposing structure; stone walls plastered smooth, a heavy door with iron reinforcements, and bars on the small windows in front. Ksenia pulled open the door at Artemis’s gesture. Inside, a table and chairs sat off to one side and a massive counter spanned the breadth of the room they had entered. There was a door to one side, reinforced like the front door, but with lighter iron. A stocky man glanced up from behind the counter as they approached.

“What can I do for you?” he asked, looking between Artemis’s gentlemanly clothes and Ksenia’s second-hand dress. Artemis waved her forward.

“I’d like to see about setting up an account.” Ksenia drew herself up to her full height. Granted, it wasn’t impressive, but she hoped it made her look more competent. “I have a deposit to start it.”

“Let’s talk a bit then,” the man said, swinging a partition back from the counter and coming over to the table. “Please, sit.” Ksenia sank into her seat, setting her lightly clasped hands on the table. “Now, tell me what you’ll be doing and why you want this account.”

Ksenia explained; she was a seamstress working on commission, but she had the prospect of working on more expensive items and wanted the security of not carrying coin with her. The banker nodded as she went on. “I don’t suppose you have any examples of your work with you?” asked the man.

“No, I...wait,” Ksenia turned to Artemis. “May I borrow that pouch from you?” Artemis handed over the embroidered linen pouch and Ksenia slid it over to the waiting banker. “This is all my work here, and it’s on the smaller end of what I make.”

The banker picked up the pouch and examined it. “That’s a nice piece of work there. I might have to get you to do something for myself one day.” He stood up and retrieved a few sheets of parchment. “Here’s our usual terms. Says what you can and can’t do, how to request letters of credit, our verified receivers, how to ask for receiver verification...all those things.” He slid a sheet of parchment over to Ksenia. She nodded. “This sheet here is your information. Name, an address, type of business, starting deposit. If you have businesses you know you’ll be working with, you can add their names and proprietors as well, so we know those are legitimate requests.”

Ksenia read through the first page, taking time to be thorough. Whoever had written it had been painstakingly clear, which she appreciated. Coming to the second page, she found the banker had set a pen on the table for her. Filling it out quickly, she handed it back to the banker.
He frowned. “Do you have a last name, Miss Ksenia?”

“No,” she answered quickly. She hoped her face didn’t flush as it often did when she lied.

“All right then.” He made a few quick strokes to indicate that she had not given a last name. “And the deposit?” Ksenia handed him her 4 silver. Artemis set a stack of 40 silver on the table and motioned to the banker, who noted it, and went behind the counter. He shuffled a few papers and wrote a bit, coming out with a folded piece of parchment. “Here’s your certificate of proof for your account here. Keep that safe.”

“Thank you, sir. A good day to you,” Ksenia said, as she and Artemis left the building. She put the parchment away and stretched in the sunlight. “Do we still have time to see this workspace, or should I just head back to the Goose?”

[Artemis Black]

"There's certainly time. Do want to get you off the street before it gets dark. Both to avoid Deb and because I still owe Kat a conversation," Artemis said to her as he started toward an easy rooftop access.

Once they were in the back alley. he calmly walked up the crumbling stone wall to a low roof. He turned to watch Ksenia make the same simple climb and then motioned with his head to the southeast.

"Around ten roofs that way. Would be shorter if we were birds, but eh," he said to her before beginning a casual walk on the alley side of the roof. The guards didn't appreciate roofwalkers, but they often avoided ducking into east side alleys just to check for them.

He kept an eye on his companion as they moved, and stayed at an easy pace. He even helped her up and down some of the larger hops. "The place we're headed, I'll need help faking the tax record to claim, but it's kinda a mess. Business went away years ago, and a series of things happened. Now no one has the rental document, but the land is paid up for another year," he said, explaining the general outline of the warehouse's useful situation.

"I figure, we fake the document, pay any small fines, and clean the place up. Eventually, get the building beside it. Maybe pull in the people that sleep there as laborers, and open up a shop front." He'd not actually shared the full plan with anyone out loud before. He felt a stirring in his chest to see his dreams forming from the mist.

When they arrived at the warehouse roof, Artemis gave a glance over the side of the building. "Gang's still there in the yard. Need to deal with them at some point," he mused, before making his way to the rooftop trapdoor. "Hop down, move just to the side and don't wander. The floor needs to be rebuilt."

Once inside, he led Ksenia on a brief tour of the wreckage that was the inside of the warehouse. In his mind, he could see the partitions, the storerooms, the office looking out over the large floor space below. Finally, the reached the great barrel. He triggered the mechanism, which he'd want to oil soon, and led her down into the stone hall.

"Pardon for all this so suddenly. This is where I live," he said, opening the door and motioning at the rather depressing room. "And this leads to the Goose," he added, moving over to the large barred metal wall and door. With a few moments of deft concentration, he popped the lock.

"Head straight, when you get to the end thump the door hard twice. Someone will let you in, and then you can do as you want," he said to her, motioning with his hands down the hallway.

[Ksenia]

As Artemis told her about the warehouse he’d found and his plans for it, Ksenia smiled. He didn’t have unreasonably grand expectations - a storefront, places to sleep - and she could see how he’d envisioned it. The warehouse was a wreck, to be sure, but the walls themselves looked sturdy, and as he gestured and explained, Ksenia could see the shadowy foundations of his dream.

He led her to the giant barrel and through the passage he’d opened. His room was painfully bare; a straw mattress, an old rickety table, and a couple chairs were his furnishings. She noted to herself that he had but one blanket, a few cups, and little else. “There’s room for improvement, but it does look snug enough,” Ksenia said, glancing at the small room. He told her how to get to the Goose through the hall. “Thank you. See you soon, I hope.” She headed down to the door he indicated and banged on it twice.

The door swung open and she was in a room with many bottles and barrels of a variety of alcohol. A large man motioned her through the doorway. “Up these stairs, then through the door at the top will take you into the kitchen,” he replied in answer to her question. The kitchen was unsurprisingly busy, so she wove through it quickly to reach the servants’ stairs. She set down her bundle of clothing and fabric and put the bank’s certificate on one of her crate shelves. Laying the thinner linen on the table, Ksenia took her old underdress and spread it on top. Based on the worst tears, she could tell where she’d need to add room for her new underdress.

Deb knocked on the door with a plate of food and a mug of tea after a few hours. Ksenia had her pieces cut out and was sewing them together. Deb set the food down and Ksenia gave her a slightly stiff side-armed hug. She showed Deb the new dresses and things she’d gotten, chattering happily for the few minutes Deb could stay. Deb smiled at her and listened, asking questions about her lessons and the bank; simple questions, but thoughtful. “It’s a shame that red dress was ripped short. I’d have told you to wear it...next time,” Deb said, licking her lips.

“Well, we’ll see if maybe I can work up something,” Ksenia grinned. “Wouldn’t show bloodstains at least.” Deb left with a goodbye and a promise extracted from Ksenia to bring her dishes down later. Ksenia ate ravenously; she’d walked a lot today and the aftermath of Deb’s feeding made her hungrier than she could remember in a long time. After she’d taken her dishes down, Ksenia felt rather drowsy. She moved her purchases off her bedroll and turned in to sleep.

*
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Firm arms held her and she thrashed against them. “Shh, shh,” a voice soothed. Ksenia fought all the harder. Mam would never; this must be someone unknown. Possibly someone dangerous. She tried to claw at whoever held her, but they caught her wrists. Ksenia sagged, sobbing. She couldn’t get away. She went to take a deep breath - and couldn’t. Her lungs didn’t inflate and her chest felt like someone had punched it in. Gasping. No breath. Was she dying?

*

Deb held Ksenia trying to soothe her. She’d heard the terrified screams when she’d come to check on the woman between deliveries that night. She’d tried to wake the younger woman but the nightmare held her too deeply. Deb’s gentle embrace was met with flailing and an attempt to claw her face. Holding Ksenia’s wrists seemed to stop her, for a moment. Deb looked down and saw the woman arch back, gasping. Her chest fell and wasn’t rising again like normal; her body twitched as she tried to breathe.

This wasn’t right. Humans needed to breathe. Ksenia’s eyes were open wide, scared. Not knowing what else to do, Deb jerked down the neck of Ksenia’s dress and bit her sharply. Ksenia made a gutteral noise that might have been a shriek, had she the air to put through it. Deb licked the wound, trying to get enough saliva in the woman to trigger the calming effects. With a gasp Ksenia’s chest rose and she sucked in several lungfuls of air. Deb sat back on her heels, satisfied that at least the woman wasn’t dying.

Deb hadn’t expected Ksenia to all but throw herself into her lap, sobbing incoherently. Her face was buried in the middle of Deb’s work dress, making damp patches as she cried. Deb scooped her up like a child and rocked her in her lap, murmuring comforting sounds. Ksenia was trying to speak but Deb could only make out a few words: “no,” “don’t hurt me,” “couldn’t breathe”, “stabbing”, “stones”. As Deb rubbed her hand over Ksenia’s back, the thought came that someone had hurt her human. Someone who needed to pay.

Worn out, Ksenia’s sobs subsided to hiccups and the occasional tear. Deb held her tightly against her chest and carried her to her room. “You’re staying here. I’ll be back,” she said as she laid the younger woman on the bed.

“No...please stay,” whimpered Ksenia, reaching out her hand.

“I can’t. I’ll be back, I promise,” Deb said, taking Ksenia’s hand and squeezing it. “I’ll make you some tea to relax.” She shut the door and locked it before striding back to the kitchens. There were deliveries to accept, tea to make, and vengeance to plan.