Chapter 13

Agnes had authoritatively taken over the planning, which flooded Isaac with a lovely relief. He was tired, with a headache pounding at his temples, and even tiny Meredith was growing heavy in his arms. It seemed the mere act of worrying so intensely was having a physical effect.

Eventually, Meredith regained her legs and insisted on walking by herself, although Isaac kept a surreptitious hand just below her elbow in case she stumbled.

Jen, it turned out, actually did have a fever, as was discovered when just an hour ago, her face had went aflame in blotchy red and beady sweatdrops began to trickle down from her hairline, yet she was shivering as violently as if she was in a snowstorm. Agnes and Isaac were taking turns carrying her, and their little party had had to stop several times in the past half hour to allow the girl to throw up.

Agnes's plan was primarily concerned with finding them a little inn with easy access to the port in case they needed to leave quickly. She only had two requirements: the innkeeper must be sufficiently drunk and/or oblivious, and there must be food.

“How about here?” Isaac suggested, waving aside the foul river air to point at a dingy little place with a creaking sign bearing the faded logo of three full bottles, with a fourth spilled sideways at their bases.

“Looks promising,” Agnes conceded. “Here, let me take Jen-” she heaved the now-sleeping girl from Isaac's arms “-and you go in first. Make sure the keeper won't ask any difficult questions.” She smiled reassuringly and took Meredith's hand. “Go on! We'll be fine.”

Meredith blew him a kiss, sweetly, and Isaac gave a shaky smile before entering. Certainly his quiet life before had done nothing to prepare him for this.

The inn was as dingy inside as it was outside, lit only by a few languishing tallow candles that gave off a foul smell as they melted and dribbled down the sides of their tables. The main room had a bar strung along one wall, a deteriorating counter adorned with a rusted bell, and two staircases almost hidden in the back shadows.

The innkeeper, a fat, ruddy-faced man, was sitting asleep behind the counter, snoring loudly. His wiry, filthy brown hair fell into his equally dirty face, being blown aside with each snore.

As Isaac cautiously approached him, a hatchet-faced woman, thin, tall, and all sharp angles, bustled out from a swinging door that hid the kitchen. Her faded blue dress hung limply on her body, ill-fitted and unflattering. Her sun-browned face held vestiges of forgotten beauty in the wide eyes fringed with long lashes, the high cheekbones, and the long, wavy black hair.

“Can I get you something, monsieur?” she said, voice clipped with a touch of French. “That bête is useless, bless him.” She aimed a kick at the counter, looking almost fond.

“I was just wondering if you had any rooms open?” he asked in a vague, polite manner, eyes darting nervously.

“Yes, yes, mon cher. Does it look like we get much business to you?” Though her voice was rough, she smiled at him kindly. “Never you mind, cher. Just you come back, oui?”

“Yes... um...” Isaac backed quickly outside, looking distinctly ill at ease, to where Agnes, Jen, and Meredith were still waiting across the muddy street. Except... they weren't waiting there.

“Agnes?” he called stupidly, pivoting slowly on the spot in a complete circle. The mud beneath his feet was kicked up in a turmoil, suggesting some kind of struggle. That didn't look promising.

“Isaac?” called a trembly voice from within the jumble of trash bins piled against the alley wall a few yards back from the road. Isaac whipped his head around and ran toward the noise, calling “Jen!”

The splash of violently red hair alerted him to her whereabouts; spilling across the desaturated scene it looked almost gory. She was lying facedown, skirts hiked up around her knees, with all the appearance of having been shoved hastily into the partial hiding place between a few trash bins.

“What happened?” Isaac whispered, remembering quickly not to shout and pulling Jen into his lap, where she fell limply against his chest. “Where are Meredith and Agnes?”

“Agnes... she pushed me back here... police came...” Her tremulous voice dropped to an anguished whisper. “Tried to push Meredith... she wouldn't go...” Jen began to cry softly.

“Jen, pull yourself together and tell me where they went! Are they hurt? Are you? Tell me!” Anxiety making Isaac jerky and not at all himself, he shook Jen rapidly. Her head lolled back and forth, his shakes only making her cry harder.

“I'm sorry...” she choked out.

Isaac stared for a minute, horrified, before pulling Jen into a hug.

“No, I'm sorry, Jen! I'm so sorry!” He hoisted her into his arms like a baby and lugged her across the street.

“Excuse me, madam...” The sharply angled French woman turned from her place at the bar, one calloused hand flying to her mouth at the sight of Jen lying sick and floppy in his arms.

“Oh, mon cherí! The poor little darling, what's happened?” She flew swiftly across the room and lifted Jen into her own arms while the ease and skill of both a strong laborer and an experienced mother.

“She's sick. Fever,” he said, fidgeting distractedly. “Look, I'm really sorry about this. If you could you just put her in my room? I don't want to be a- a bother-”

“No, no, no, of course I'll take care of the poor fillette. You go on.” She threw a brief smile his way, then bustled off.

Isaac full-out ran from the inn, scaring several passersby as he asked feverishly if the police had passed by with two lunatics in tow. Luckily, some recovered soon enough to point him in the right direction. Away from the river that roiled behind him, spitting pollutants in the air, but carrying ships that were to be their way out.

Back to where they had come.

Sorry this took so long. I was on a big writer's block for a while, and then some joke of a state test... Hope you like it. :D