Welcome to Gaia! :: View User's Journal | Gaia Journals

A present for y'all to tide you over until I get back.

Chapter 4
Bellamy

What was he going to do? Was there anything he could do? Aithne had been captured, of that he was sure. Captured or worse. The thought of what “or worse” could mean made Bellamy shudder audibly, attracting the attention of the brutes sitting at the next table over.

“Hey, pretty boy,” one of them sneered, sliding into the seat next to Bellamy. “You look well-to-do. Maybe if you give me whatever money you’re carrying, I won’t get any dirt in your nice hair.”

Bellamy didn’t even bother to say anything. He simply stood and left, followed by the feeble protests of his would-be muggers. Right now there were more important things to think about. “No two ways about it,” he informed the crotchety old man sitting on a rough wooden bench outside the tavern’s door. “I’m going to have to break in and see what’s what.”

“Break into where?” the codger asked gruffly, clearly upset that he was being disturbed his this hooligan.

“Into the place where I lost Aithne,” Bellamy said, gesturing in the general direction.

“Who the heck is Aithne?” demanded the old man.

Bellamy favored him with an enormous smile and a wink. “Only the sweetest girl I’ve ever met,” he whispered conspiratorially, and skipped away down the street. Now he was feeling heroic, and that put him in a good mood. After all, things couldn’t possibly be as bad as they seemed. He’d just kick the door down, demand that Aithne be returned to him, and beat senseless anybody who tried to deter him. Yes, that was the way to do it.

He bumped into somebody, who cursed loudly at him. “Watch where you’re going!” snarled a tall, dark youth dressed in heavy furs with a saber trailing at his side.

“Terribly sorry,” Bellamy said with a sweeping bow. “I was lost in thought.”

“I’m the Prince of Vankadi!” the youth bellowed from all of three feet away, and would have continued had Bellamy not chosen that moment to skip away.

Once he was actually standing there, though, in front of the house, Bellamy didn’t feel quite so confident as he had a moment ago. But despite that, he had to rescue Aithne. Everything else was unimportant. A booted foot slammed into the door’s handle, eliciting a loud creak. Bellamy sighed and put his foot down. Just once he wanted to do something even remotely heroic, but such was not his lot in life, it seemed. He resignedly pulled out his lock-picks and after working for a minute had the door open. Replacing the picks in his jacket, he stepped over the threshold and eased the door shut behind him. It was dark. That was a good start. The curtains were drawn and no lamps were lit. Bellamy crept forward, glancing into the corners.

A light flared up in front of him Across the room, a man obscured by shadows leaned against the wall. “What are you doing in my house?” came a low, smooth voice.

Bellamy stammered uselessly until he was able to compose himself. “There’s a…young girl who might have found her way in here last night,” he began, but the shadowy man cut him off.

“You mean the harlot who broke in here last night to steal my possessions?” he translated, his voice unsettlingly steady. Bellamy could only nod. “She is no longer here, I am afraid. I had her taken away.

Bellamy’s eyes flicked over to the door and back to the shadowy man. He wanted to run, but was for some reason unable. This man was dangerous. Panicking, his knife was in his hand and he was running forward—a stool cleverly concealed in the shadow of an armchair leapt at his feet, and before Bellamy could register what had happened he was already on the floor.

*****

The ceiling was white. White and…yes, those were probably scorch marks. The former tenant had likely been a smoker. Come to think of it, why was Bellamy lying in this bed? He rolled onto his side and eyed the door. Try as he might, he couldn’t remember how he had gotten there. If this was the first time it had happened, he would have been worried, but Bellamy had had his fair share—more than that, if he wasn’t mistaken—of wild nights.

But this was different. His head didn’t hurt, his mouth wasn’t dry, and he didn’t appear to have any new wounds. That was troubling. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. This definitely wasn’t his room. Whose was it, then?

The door creaked open, a young lady in white robes, her head bound in a light blue scarf, entering with a bright smile on her face. “You’re up,” she noted, sounding genuinely pleased. “Did you sleep well?”

“I…think so,” Bellamy said slowly, looking the girl over. “Where am I?”

She giggled. “I’m not surprised you don’t remember,” she said. “You were not at all in your right mind when we found you on our doorstep.” Bellamy groaned and flopped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling again. The girl didn’t seem to notice. “This is the convent of the Sisters of Charity. I am Sister Saffi,” she finished with another giggle.

“Never heard of you,” Bellamy admitted with a shrug. “Sisters…what are you, witches or something?”
Saffi gasped, taking a step back. “Witches? No, no, no, we would never associate with such beings!”

Bellamy sat up again and eventually managed to stand. “Nuns, then,” he decided, searching himself to make sure he still had all his things. “By the way, what happened to my clothes?” he asked, noting that he was currently dressed in an undergarment that was not his own.

Patting his shoulder apologetically, Saffi favored Bellamy with a sad smile. “We had to have them cleaned. They were soaked in…well, whatever it was, you didn’t need to be wearing it.”

Oh, that was just fantastic. If only he could remember why he was there. Come to think of it, he still needed to find Aithne. Why did he need to find her, again? She was probably elsewhere in the convent; no doubt she followed him there as he stumbled around in a drunken stupor last night. “At least tell me we’re still in Volgrad,” he begged Saffi, massaging his forehead.

“Volgrad?” Saffi repeated curiously. “My, no. We’re at least a hundred miles from there, if not more.” She tilted her head to one side and stared at Bellamy as though he was a crying child. That was mildly infuriating.

The string of curses that issued from Bellamy then made Saffi panic and run out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her. After he had worn himself out screaming obscenities at the walls, Bellamy threw open the door and charged down the hallway, much to the dismay of a cluster of nuns passing by at that moment.

Somebody had some explaining to do.