Chapter 46. Scarlett

  Sid followed the looney man. He followed as quickly as he could without having to run that is. That old man was quick. Like there was some sort of prize in return. Leading him up a grand set of stairs. Thirteen if you were suspicious. Sid followed up those stairs, up to a bold set of doors. Beautiful oak if Sid had to guess—remember Sid isn’t a skilled woodsman, so really it was anyone’s guess what the wood was. The entry though was amazing. Those doors had been carved with a guardian. A marvelous thing Sid had never seen before. The face was one of that to a reptile. He just knew from the split tongue and eyes. But the snout was just a bit longer, fiercer. Wide nostrils. Lots of long sharp teeth. Threatening, yet glorious. He wasn’t sure what the guardian could be, but he liked looking at it. Especially those big ruby eyes that had been set.

  Walking though the doors he was greeted by the most irate staircase he had ever seen. Not even knowing such design was possible. Eight different stairways. Each caged the large room. Each stair set a wide curling spiral, crawling up the wall, each set leading to a different level in the tower. Each step a different height. Each step a different width. Each step a different length. All those staircases churn like a pumping corkscrew, hugging the inside walls twisting up and down. Constantly. Endlessly. One could literally watch the stairs melt into the floor, while the new sets grew from somewhere above. How confusing he thought, only a mad architect would construct these stairs.

  Following a particle trail of wafting skin, Sid stepped around a corner and peered down a long corridor. rows of rooms lined the chiseled hallway. Each with groups of travelers practicing formations. Others had housing such as blankets travel sacks and collectibles one might gather. All in attempts to make it more comfortable. Taking what shelter was available in the castle.

  Noticing finally, Fenrir who walked beside him. “Fenrir?” The mustache did a double take. “What are you doing up here.

  Fenrir only wagged that shadowy tail. He was so clever. He followed Sid all they way through the castle. Only blowing his cover for a better smell of the room. Looking up at Sid, he sit waiting to continue.

  Well he can’t just go and put Fenrir outside now. Might as well just keep him in the shadows if he can. The old kook popped from down the hall. Running into a room.

  Sid followed the drifty path casually walking along with the pup, as if the two belong. The stained glass and firelight didn’t faze the shadow. Interesting. The flakes gently settled in front of an open doorway. A single frayed rope held a plank of wood, with dinghy swirly letters.

  I could let you know what the sign read since Sid couldn’t—but where’s he fun in that. Besides I already told you what the symbols on the gate was.

  "What are you doing in here!" A elderly woman yelled.

  Sid peered around the doorframe, seeing a kaleidoscope of colors. Elegant silks, cascade with grace to the floor. Handsome cloths, stretched across the walls, colored and curing, awaiting their measurements. A table for binding and mending leathers. Beautiful hammers tackers and chunkers perfectly in place. Each with reflective brass, silver and gold buttons next in line for assembly.

  Scrambling around a rack, hanging with leather vests, and matching gloves. Then quickly evading, under a table, as a broom came swatting to the ground. Bristled straw exploded while the broom hit the tables edge. Knocking fine looking boots to the floor. They were bound with a peculiar cloth. Fashioned not of leather, or felt, nor the fibrous materials from the forest, but something perfectly blended somewhere in-between.

  Fine boots indeed they were, mystic with value. Rare furs lining the insides. Four straps for fitting. Each baring a polished black or red scale as the speed hook. Fitting snug between a tight stitched slit in the strappings. The bottom of the soles edged with jagged rock or tooth—it was a glossy white hard material, do with that info what you want—that raw material was weaved within for grip. How one was able to accomplish such a task, was beyond Sid. Across the tongue of the boot was a thick calligraphy of letters.

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  One of those words looked like the one on the sign hanging from the doorframe.

  "Your not allowed in the castle Skeeter." A short, burley, pot-bellied woman yelled in a heavy irritable tone.

  She was time tested if anything. Faded chestnut hair, and a pudgy rosy face. Tired sunken eyes, with deep crows feet. Rivers of wrinkles run down to a stubby nose. Continuing through pale pink lips with soft whiskers. She wore a lovely layered blouse patterned with large puffy, silky flowers of every color, and a long seasonal amber dress.

  Seeing Fenrir and Sid, the old kook sprung from under the display. Running for the big guy and that vicious shadow. The shop keeper, stomping behind him. Put a brake in her step. That small old woman froze. The long lived threader, took a moment to document her sighting. Bearing witness, the massive black pup, sitting taller then an adult greyback, and the meaty hand of a naked man, who scratch its ears.

  "Ahem. How may I help you?" She questioned clearing her throat. Then rotating the broom, laying it against the wall. Straitening her dress she focused in the distance, eyeing the old kook named Skeeter, then back at Sid and Fenrir.

  "Is he going to be a problem" she asked.

  "I don't know this man. I’m just passing through looking for a woman called Scarlett. I was told she can help with linen. And a story."

  “Not Skeeter, the dog.” She huffed interrupting him. Looking more closely at Fenrir.

  Fenrir was a good boy who sat with a polite manner. Just look at him, such a sweet boy sitting at Sid's side like such.

  Skeeter cower behind them both. Only dusting and rubbing his sore dry scalp. Reaching around Sid fat calf, poking the single boot.

  “Fenrir is a wild animal, I can't foretell his actions. But I will be responsible, if it eases you.” Sid answered. He may have decided to raise the pup—but if the animal ever wanted to leave it could. Sid believed no animal belonged. Only should they show respect as one should respect the animal.

  The lady peered at the naked man with cautious eyes—what a curious answer. What a curious fellow. The old woman witnessed while his gentle pink welts fade. The bubbled blisters along his shoulders ease and multiple shades of easy blues capped with lifting scabs on his legs fell to the floor. Fenrir was licking them up as they fall—this mans body was recovering from something quicker than should be allowed.

  How very curious indeed. This man right here in her doorway—he obviously possessed an immunity to a certain degree. She observed the heavy man. From each fading welt. To each roll of skin—there was something in there. Something that needed tutoring. This man was forgotten. Somewhere in the timeliness of history the world forgot about this one—my oh my, how very curious indeed.

  “What did you say you needed, fresh linen?” The woman finally asked. Satisfied with her exam. She knew who he was.

  “Can you stich anything that fits?” Arms lifted with questioning worry.

  “Do you have any trade?” She asked. Turning away, already knowing her answer. All the man had was a sword and axe. One item she couldn’t take, the other she had no use for. “Come in.”

  “I have a sword and axe. I was hoping maybe I could get some trousers. Or maybe a long coat, frost is only so many moons away now.” This was by far Sid best interaction. He may be able to fetch some trade—perhaps he earned a bit of glory. Experience. Or whatever you want to call it—but Sid advanced just that tiny bit during that moment of talk with trader Kye.

  The old woman looked at the items. Humoring the big guy she even held the axe like it was of consideration. She however had no need for the items.

  “How about I fix you a pair of trousers, if you do me a favor in return? Does that sound good to you dear?”

  She was kind old woman. Sid was more than willing to do a task. Should he try for more? Would she be willing to give more? It was risky. Sid never haggle before. Trade in his settlement was simple. One basic sword for three fish, each same in weight. He was already under the assumption this was Scarlett, considering he was on the third level, and he followed the dusty kook—Skeeter.

  “Are you Scarlett?” It may have been rude, but he had to be sure.

  “Of course I am. Cant you read the sign.” She chuckled friendly.

  Sid though was looking at the boots. He didn’t want to answer. He couldn’t read. For some unknown reason was embarrassed by the fact. It never bothered him before—not until Abram so desperately begged for what the message said. Oddly enough he also hope Abram and Arieo were okay outside.