After the Fire

The Silverun District
The day after the Baker fire

Sunlight crept in at the edges of the heavy curtains shielding the room from the worst of the light’s assault. Ethan awoke to an unusual sensation: he felt rested.

Rising from the floor (for he still slept on the floor… this was just a very nice floor) he stretched and made his way to the windows, pulling back the curtain and wincing at the light that flooded in. It was noon, or some time close to it. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept this late.

He looked around the comfortably furnished interior of his bedroom. Everything was so different from the cramped, hard edges and splintered wood furnishings of the Baker’s apartment. Here, everything was soft, rounded. Heavy and built to last. The room was designed with such comfort that any sane person would have a hard time finding reason to leave.

He looked at the pillows and blankets scattered across the floor; at the small nest he’d built for himself. It was no wonder why rich people looked so much better and lived so much longer.

He sat down at a distinguished looking writing desk. He didn’t have anything to do.

Well, that’s not entirely accurate…

There was plenty that needed to be done, but for the first time in almost a year Ethan was without his daily routine. This time last week he was standing in the center of the market, halfway through selling baked goods for the day.

He wondered how quickly word of the Baker’s death would spread… and how far up the ranks the cover story would be accepted as fact.

More than likely, the story would hold for the general populace, he thought. ‘Baker dies in tragic fire; dozens left without homes.’

As for anyone else, such Kelwin or this new Grand Inquisitor? Well… if they suspected anything the recent incidents should only tell them that he was somewhere in the city.

Admittedly, the fire occurred in the same neighborhood and suspiciously soon after the disappearance of one lieutenant Peters. Two incidents in the same area would likely strike a discerning individual as something more than coincidence. But the investigators seemed likely to assume that anyone who was in the area was likely to have cleared out. Setting a fire only to move next door would seem foolish. That would mean that Vanja, staying only a few blocks away, would continue to be safe for the time being.

At least, that was Ethan’s hope.

He was banking on the idea that as much as gut intuition may connect the dots, there was little actual proof of anything left. Witnesses would vouch for the old man and at least half a dozen Swan soldiers personally saw the old man’s disturbing looking blind eyes. The fire destroyed the rest.

The only hard connection left was Roland.

Ethan wasn’t sure exactly what his brother may have shared. Either Roland had witnessed Small Potatoes – knowing full well that it was Ethan – and said nothing or…

Or he knew it was me and they just conspired to wait, follow me, hoping I would lead them to the rest of my friends…

This seemed more likely. Kelwin had been smart, conniving. This Grand Inquisitor was probably smart too. This may have been the reason why the Baker wasn’t taken by the Swans. It may have even been the same reasoning for why Roland allowed him to escape from The Tops, although Ethan didn’t want to admit this. He wanted to believe that was part of some unspoken parlay the two had agreed upon when he sat down in the booth and shared a meal.

That was one hell of a good steak though…

Looking through the frosted glass panels, Ethan stared out onto the city below. The Silverun properties rested on the eastern edges of the city, slightly elevated. The whole city looked something like a shallow bowl and the edges provided a pleasant view. A thin plume of smoke still connected the ground to the clouds above, the remnants of last night’s fire.

He dressed and applied his facial hair. Luke Bastion had a mustache now. He always wore stage makeup, giving his skin a thin white coating. It was not without precedent among nobility (such makeup helped to cover a poor complexion) but it always gave the character a theatrical flair; as such, Luke seemed a bit eccentric when he was first introduced but most people quickly warmed to his personality. His penchant for telling wild, elaborate and salacious stories allowed the makeup to seem strangely fitting, as though the nobleman had missed his true calling to be an actor.

Between the grey/white hair, the mustache and the theater makeup, few people would be able to connect Luke Bastion to Ethan Fairchild unless the two were standing side-by-side. Luke also looked about ten years older, although this was less to do with makeup than how Ethan carried himself.

Once his face was complete, Luke set out to find a scribe and a courier. Ethan needed to get word to Vanja that he was still alive. For now, he needed her to stay put. For that to happen she needed to feel reasonably safe, at least until he could make other arrangements. Learning that her only contact in the city did not, in fact, perish in a tragically timed fire should help to this end.

He just hoped that her relative safety was true.

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After the Fire