Fortune Favors the Cruel - Kel Carpenter Page 0,18
back over her shoulder as she began pulling dusty bottles off the shelves. “Ye’ ‘ave so many. Ye’ need a bath.”
Quinn said nothing as Driselda began dumping the contents of each bottle into a large bucket. The liquid hissed and crackled with each new ingredient added. She was fairly certain there was a light steam coming from the liquid in the tub when the older lady clicked her tongue and nodded. Without any explanation she walked out of the back room, closing the door firmly behind her. Quinn could make out Lazarus’ low voice on the other side as he inquired about something. The woman’s voice was harder to discern as she replied. There was some shuffling about, and a few minutes passed before the door cracked open and in came the stern-faced old woman with her back locked tight, a massive bucket of water swishing side to side. She hefted it up to the ledge of the tub and heaved it over, letting the chilly water fall over Quinn.
She let out a small sigh at the blessed moisture, chancing a quick drink, she scooped some up in her hands before Driselda slapped her palms away. “Tis a ‘ery delicate balance. Could melt ye’ insides if ye’ drink it.” The woman turned to the second smaller bucket full of a grayish-green goop. She picked it up and quickly tossed the contents in. Quinn yelped at the nip of burning heat before it settled into the water, staining it a soft mint green.
“Now what?” Quinn asked.
“Now, we wait. Tha sanitatem will take an hour ta remove tha bran’s, but t’won’t take away ye’ scars,” the women said, plopping down on the short stool. “Sink down an’ let it reach ‘verywhere, girl. Ye’ ‘ave quite a lot—yes, all the way up ta tha back of ye’r neck—‘ere ye’ go.”
“Will it remove this?” Quinn asked into the silence. She lifted her hand where Lazarus’ name was written in black.
“Is’ it a bran’?” she asked.
“Of sorts. We signed a contract.”
Driselda nodded once. “Looks ta me like tha work o’ a firedrake feather. ‘At’s not a bran’ o’ iron, but o’ magic. Neither tha sanitatem nor anythin’ but tha dealer o’ tha contract an’ their desire ta break it will remove ‘at.”
Quinn looked at the inky letters under her palm. The other woman fell silent, leaning back against the wooden panels. She crossed her ankles and interlaced her hands over her lap as Quinn laid all the way back in the sanitatem bath and let her hand fall to her side. Initially the pure stuff had burned like an open flame, but now it was a subtler sort of burn. The kind that slowly ate at a person, moving from lukewarm and a bit tingly to being stimulated all over.
She closed her eyes against the small zings that went through her as the top layer of skin was eaten away entirely.
“‘Ow’s tha burnin’?” Driselda asked some time later.
Quinn cracked an eye open. “I’ve had better days.”
The older woman nodded and smoothed her hands over her wrinkled skirt to rest on her knees. She leaned forward and said, “Folks ten’ ta yelp ‘er cry like children when I remove a bran’ ‘er two. Only had ta do a full body once.” Quinn didn’t say anything, and the woman continued. “He was like ye’. Ne’er made a soun’.”
“There are worse pains a slave endures, particularly those of us that never stopped fighting against it,” Quinn said, recalling the crack of a whip before the shredding started. She’d been beaten so brutally by some of her masters, she’d come to the edge of death more times than she could count. She didn’t want to die. She wasn’t searching for a death sentence. Quinn had accepted the life she led, and was prepared for if or when the day came when she couldn’t outrun it. It seemed that with Lazarus, today was not that day—and while she would never tell him—she was thankful, despite the price he’d asked.
“No’one is really free,” the old woman answered. “We’re all a slave ta somethin’. Whether tis a person, a past, our own fears…” The woman rocked forward, and her joints popped as she came to stand. “Freedom’s a myth, one use’ta keep us all ‘n line. E’ry now an’ then, there’ll be one like ye’ that sees tha invisible bars an’ searches fer a way ta break them.” She motioned for Quinn to stand. She did as was requested and reached out,