Of Malady and Mortality

[kleineklementine]

Dahlia glanced over at Barnabas. Clearly the man had no children. Or, if he did, they had yet to reach this age. Rule Number One of adolescents was to never call them a child. But the girl seemed to be thrown off her balance enough to cease to be an immediate threat. For now. And Dahlia was very grateful to see Barnabas take the iron rod away from the girl and put it out of the way, at least for now.

Wren, for her part, looked suspiciously, still half-snarling, between the woman, the man, and the crate. As if any of them might turn out to be an enemy or a trap. But she was so clearly scared, her knee trembling, that with great reticence and a more vicious snarl at the two adults, she sat down.

"Fine," she spat, glaring daggers at them, "I sat. Happy?" The barbs in the voice were the give-away of someone who wanted to say something mean and clever, but couldn't quite manage. Though she glared at them with all her might, her gaze kept returning to the iron bar, now out of reach.

Dahlia watched the girl at a loss. What on earth were they going to do now? She was like a trapped animal who lay still while the cage was closed, but would leap the moment it saw an opening. No, Dahlia had to remind herself, she wasn't a wild animal. She was a girl. A scared, bone-thin girl no more than a year older than her Milo.

But there were things common to animals and human alike. Tentatively, Dahlia took a step closer to the girl.

"When was the last time you had something to eat, Wren?" she asked gently. "You look like you could use something." This immediately got Wren's attention and the sneer left her face – though it could hardly be called 'tame' now.

Dahlia looked at Barnabas hopefully. "Do you have something here?" Please, please let him have something here. "Otherwise," she turned back to Wren.
"My name's Dahlia, Wren. Once the guards have passed, there's a bakery next door. I'll go get you something to eat. I won't tell anyone else you're here, promise."

Wren still looked defiant, but for once she didn't retort with any threats.

[Vivi]

Barnabas seemed to have settled now that the initial shock had worn off - at least on the outside. He wore the same vaguely amused expression even while the wheels turned frantically behind his eyes. So she was weaponless, that was progress, but he still hadn't the slightest inkling of where to take this next. She obviously wasn't inclined to explain her predicament, and even his customers superior social skills were falling flat most of the time. Lucky she was here, he supposed, because it was better than nothing, or worse, him alone.

Dahlia? That's right... he never had asked her name, had he? He was stuck in this mess with a woman whose name he'd never even bothered to learn. He bit his lip, allowing himself to feel a little sheepish over that. All in all, he wasn't a stellar example in the kindness department, but he could at least try a little harder. Jeyne would have despaired to see him act in such a way, she really would.

"I'm Barnabas." He offered, inclining his head as politely as he ever tended to do. Dahlia earned herself a tiny smile, acknowledging her plea even if he didn't directly address her. "And I reckon I have somethin' for ya. I live just above, so we got a fair stock in the larder." He cocked his head, regarding her for a moment. The smile widened just a fraction. "Reckon you're a bread and honey fan, meself."

"How did you know that?" Wren snapped, even turning this olive branch into something suspicious. Barnabas merely shrugged.

"Cause everyone is, lass." He hesitated, then gave Dahlia a brief, comforting pat on the shoulder. "Be back in just a few minutes."

- - -

He was as good as his word, the sound of rummaging and the thumping of his stick coming through the floorboards above them. Once or twice something clinked or a cupboard closed, but after about five minutes, his stick could be heard on the stairs again, much slower and more laborious this time with the occasional muttered curse. When he eventually reappeared, they could see why: laden down as he was with his stick, a muslin bag filled with several large lumps, and what looked to be a small flagon. He managed to limp to them without dropping them however, dropping the bag of paraphernalia into young Wren's lap.

"There ya go." He set the tankard down on the crate next to her with a thud. His voice was gruff, but behind it was another faint twitch of a smile. "Don't eat it too fast, or you'll be sick. Got some milk an' cheese too, f'you want it."

[kleineklementine]

The rest of the world seemed to disappear for the scraggly little bird when Wren dug into the food Barnabas plopped in front of her. She looked like she hadn't eaten for days and, for all Dahlia knew, she hadn't. But she didn't stuff it all into her face, but ate with a slow focus of someone who truly appreciated the opportunity to eat. Dahlia couldn't keep from watching her eat for the first few moments, wondering at Wren's intensity. What if that were one of her children, dirty and scared and starving. No, she had no idea what they would do about this girl, but Dahlia knew that she wouldn't be able to turn her in. And she was already wondering what the costs of that would be.

She retreated, standing close to Barnabas to give Wren some space. And also to share her thoughts with Barnabas.

"We can't turn her in, whether anyone is looking for her or not," she said under her breath, her grey eyes beseeching Barnabas. "But we can't just let her go, either. Look at her."


((Short post is short. Sorry!))

[Vivi]

As expected, the mageling absorbed herself in her meal like she'd never expected to eat again, the world fading away until it was just her and her food. If she'd torn into it ravenously, Barnabas might have managed to crack a smile, but as it couldn't have seemed less funny. He was aware that he was staring, and after a moment he turned a shoulder away, as if watching the girl eat were something too personal for him to be involved in. It was in doing this that he noticed Dahlia's approach, her pale face haunted and serious. He didn't need to ask why.

"This all got complicated pretty damn quick." He murmured, nodding in agreement. "Y'can see she's in some sorta trouble, it'd be better for the both of us if we did just hand her over. Consequences're getting worse for everyone..." Nevertheless, he sighed, shooting down his own idea before Dahlia could even react. "But you an' I both know that ain't happening. She's just a kid, for Angsar's sake, what the hell could she have done that's so bad?"

His eyes flickered to Wren, who was taking slow sips of milk in silence. His expression softened. "By the hells, she's a state... Reckon I ain't seen someone half so worn down in me life - and I nursed through the damn Pox."

[kleineklementine]

Barnabas wasn't exaggerating. The girl looked like she'd been to Hell and back again. And it certainly had gotten awfully complicated. And he was right: For Barnabas and Dahlia, the better, safer option would be to hand her into the guards. It would be better to not even find out why she had been so worried about them doing just that.

And part of Dahlia wanted to do just that. This little mage wasn't her responsibility. What did she owe the girl? Surely not the safety of her family, for whom she was the sole protector, the sole provider. The nameless mage who had murdered her husband hadn't stopped to wonder who he was. They hadn't stopped to ask themselves if he was really the enemy. So why should she?

But how disappointed in her would Kerry be if she took out her grief over him on a child. How disappointed would she be.

She's not a mage Dahlia had to remind herself, she's a child.

Dahlia looked over at Wren again, watching her eat slowly and steadily. At the very least, they needed to clean her up. Make her look less like a runaway. Washed, clean clothes. Preferably clothes that didn't have the Mark ripped out of them. Lilly was younger than Wren, but the thing was so skinny, she'd probably fit into some of her clothes... Or maybe something of Dahlia's. Or hell, she could go buy the girl something. But what would they do with her then?

Well, first things first. What was she running from?

Wren looked considerably more sedate as she finished the last bit of bread and cheese. But her eyes still held suspicion and she kept a fierceness on her face that didn't match her overall condition. But she didn't look like she was going to pounce at any moment now, and her eyes didn't wander back to the iron bar.

"Wren?" Dahlia sat down on another crate to bring herself to the girl's level. "We're going to help you,if you'll let us. But we need to know what you're running from. Why were you so worried about us calling the guards? Are they looking for you?"

It was a dumb question, and Dahlia knew it. It'd been over a year since they started rounding up Marked Mages and shipping them to the camps in the north. Any known mage would need to be on the run now. But she needed to start somewhere with the girl.

Wren looked suspiciously at Dahlia's question for a moment, then to Barnabas. "I'm not a criminal," was her defiant response. Then, a moment later her expression faltered, and she looked down at her feet. "It wasn't my fault. There was a family hiding me, but... I didn't mean to hurt anyone! It was an accident."

[Vivi]

Barnabas winced. Out of all the questions in all the world, why did she have to start with that one? The agreement to help was hardly a surprise, the two of them knowing despite their better judgement that it was the only route to take if they wanted to sleep at night. But why did she have to ask that particular question? Little wonder Wren would be suspicious after something like that - and getting her to talk would be like pulling teeth as it was.

At least she'd set the groundwork though. With great difficulty he maneuvered himself onto one knee, the movement stiff and obviously uncomfortable. Nevertheless, he did it, bringing himself down to her eye level "T'ain't our business, lass, but if we're gonna do this right, Ms Dahlia and me have to know what's going on." He let that sink in for a moment, those sharp blue eyes boring into hers. "Now come on, y'can tell us: 'summat go wrong? Get out of control?"

Wren looked very much like she'd rather not say anything, her eyes flickering between the two of them. Barnabas didn't say anything, waiting patient and still despite the growing discomfort of kneeling there. Him, stern and no-nonsense, her soft and safe - the poor girl was stuck between two extremes, but it was two extremes that were at least on her side. Finally, she dropped her gaze, nodding minutely at her own lap.

"I didn't hide well enough." She said, and there was a distinct quiver in her voice. "They came after me and I- I lashed out. I don't know if they were coming to help me or the soldiers but they-- I didn't mean to. They were always kind to me." She swallowed hard, meeting their gaze with her jaw set and her eyes suddenly brimming. "But I'm not a criminal! I hadn't done a thing before that, I'd n-never done nothing wrong!"

Her voice cracked, she screwed her eyes up, and from there she said no more, pressing her face into the grubby rags she called clothing and refusing to come out again. Sharing a helpless look with his associate, Barnabas bit his lip, uncertain of whether or not to reach out. Dahlia could probably pull it off, but the way things were going his ineffectual brand of comfort might lose him a finger or two - or make her clam up even more. Bad knee shaking with the effort of keeping this position, he glared down at the floorboards for a moment, one nail scratching along a long black burn in the wood.

Then again, maybe he did have one method of comfort.

"I get ya - reckon that shook you up, didn't it?" He aimed for something wry and bracing, as though mages injuring or killing their benefactors was something he saw every day. "Sort o' thing always does. Hell, my line o' work I can't count the damage I've done through messin' somethin' up. See the scorch marks?" He pointed his stick towards the marks on the floorboards, and more than a few black burns on the walls. "Happens to the best of us, mageling or no."

[kleineklementine]

"Who says I did any damage?" Wren demanded sharply, looking up with Barnabas with red eyes. But it only lasted a moment before her face fell again and she looked like nothing more than a scared child. But she looked hopefully at Barnabas' words. Her voice quiet and thick, she insisted again, "I'm not a criminal.

"Of course you're not a criminal." How could she be? "Neither of us think you are."

Despite her words, though, it took great effort on Dahlia's part to keep her expression composed as Wren shared the little that she did. Dahlia had been hoping that it would be some petty 'crime' that the zealous soldiers were overreacting to. Accident or not, though, they may have been right: the girl was dangerous. Criminal or no. Who could blame her, though? Trapped like prey with the predators closing in on her.

Well, they knew now that she wasn't just a stray thing that happened to coincide with the guards' search for some other, real threat. Not some skinny little girl. It had been a long shot, but the one Dahlia had been hoping for.

"That's okay, Wren," Dahlia said gently. She considered going to put a hand on the girl, but decided not to push it just yet. "You don't have to say anymore. No one's calling the guards."

But now they had a problem. The guards weren't going to find their prey out there. And what would they think when they didn't? Would they just move on to the next neighborhood, or would they revisit some of the homes and businesses they cleared? Just to make sure. Just so everyone understood how serious of a matter it was, hiding mages. And where would you go back to: the terrified baker, or the coldly defiant apothecary?

Dahlia frowned and looked seriously to Barnabas. She knew the suggestion would not go down well, with Barnabas or Wren, but she didn't think they had much of a choice. "We need to get her out of here."

"What?!" Wren demanded, wide-eyed and wild again. "They're lookin' for me out there! You said - you weren't - !"

[Vivi]

Keen not to overdo it, Barnabas only nodded along with Dahlia's reassurances, and soon they all lapsed into thoughtful silence. He couldn't say what his customer was thinking, but it didn't take a genius to guess. Young Wren's presence in his shop was problematic at best, at least in her current state. All the soldiers had to do was call a second inspection, and it'd take one look at her scared face and the torn-off patch of her clothing to jump to the right conclusion. He had a feeling none of them would enjoy the result of that very much. He supposed that was why her announcement didn't come as that much of a surprise - even if it was quite a nasty one to the poor mageling.

"Calm down, girl, she ain't changed her mind." He struggled to rise from his position on the floor, leaning heavily on his stick and hissing out a few choice curses. The look he gave to Dahlia was sharp and searching, trying to figure her out - though for the life of him he had no idea where she was going with this. "Then what're you suggestin'? It's not like we can just smuggle her out of here in a sack-"

"-I wouldn't want you to!"

"-But those high-and-mighty gets outside'll be keeping a hawks eye on things." He continued, patiently ignoring Wren's outburst. He tapped his stick impatiently on the floor, making the girl jump. "F'we're stuck in this mess, we need a plan."

[kleineklementine]

"Oh lord, of course." Dahlia rubbed her temple. Had she really forgotten that they'd been ordered to stay in the shop until the soldiers gave them the 'all clear?' This was bad. They were in a tight situation and Barnabas was right: they needed a plan. It wasn't the time for Dahlia's wits to leave her. "Sorry, I can't believe I..."

"You can't believe it?! How could you forget that?" Wren demanded, looking angry now. "It ain't your life on the line if they find me!"

Once, Dahlia never lost her temper. She wasn't sure if she used to have a temper to lose. But that time had gone the way of a solid night's sleep, the way of her husband. So when she answered Wren, the gentleness she'd used with the girl was all but absent. "It's all of our lives if we're found helping you," she snapped back, keeping her voice low, but her own anger was clear. "I have three children at home with no other parent, so you can take your attitude and stuff it. We're all taking risks now."

"Oh fine!" Wren gaped back at her. "Why don't you just turn me in, then? Protect your precious children! What do I care! It's obvious y'want to!"

Dahlia pursed her lips, looking away. She was angry with the girl, but she was angrier with herself for snapping at her. She was a child, she told herself, no more than two years older than her own Milo. A scared, hunted child. After several moments of tense silence, Dahlia turned back to the mageling, having regained some of her composure.

"I'm sorry. I haven't been my best self lately," she said quietly, tired. Then she looked the girl in the eye, and said, "I don't want to turn you in, Wren. If I did, I would. Because your'e right, it would be safer for me and especially for my kids. And also for Barnabas, and his business. There's no point in pretending it wouldn't be. So I think if either of us were going to call the guards, we'd have done it by now."

[Vivi]

"Here now, both of you! Ain't none of us in a good situation-" But he might not have been there for all the good it did. Honestly, with all the tension in the room he was surprised they hadn't started snapping at each other sooner, but it certainly wasn't helping their situation any. Until they were either allowed to go or given an alternative, the three of them were stuck here, and he wasn't about to have his shop torn apart.

He gripped his stick tighter, eyes narrowed as he debated the best way to separate the two women if need be - but it thankfully turned out not to be necessary. Wren may have been defensive - and understandably so - but Dahlia was at least willing to act the adult.

She was wrong though: the way things were escalating in Connloath, they would be in trouble either way. Maybe it wouldn't mean their heads if they handed the girl over, but Barnabas knew from experience that an aura of suspicion would be difficult to shift. The paranoia was such that even a tangential connection with a mage would result in life becoming that much more difficult - for if one mage could be found there, why not more? It would mean more searches, whispers behind hands from their neighbours, a pair of eyes trained upon the door... It was preferable to losing ones head, but Barnabas would be damned if he trusted the military to just leave them alone.

However, he was not about to say any of that aloud. Talk about throwing oil upon a fire.

"The lady's right, mageling. We wouldn't be wastin' time on a girl we were plannin' to throw to the wolves." He gave Dahlia the tiniest flicker of a smile, his version of a show of support. "You got to understand though that this ain't gonna be easy, an' sometimes we're gonna say stuff you ain't goin' to like." His expression hardened for a moment, became stern. "But we're on your side, and I ain't havin' you talk to us like that when we're trying to help. Miss Dahlia's got enough on her plate, an' I ain't got time fer it. Understand?"

Wren flushed angrily, "You can't talk to me like I'm some kind of kid! Who do you-"

"Do you understand?"

Her colour deepened, but Wren ducked her head like a naughty schoolgirl, her shoulders slumped in defeat. "Yes."

"Good lass. Now what in the buggery are we gonna do?"

[kleineklementine]

Dahlia watched appreciatively as Barnabas talked Wren down, glad for the chance to calm herself down a bit more. Her eyes softened on Wren when the girl blushed. She knew the look of children ashamed at their mistakes. This was no ordinary child, though. Dahlia hadn't only asked Wren to stop telling them about what she had done to lead up to this for the girl's sake. She didn't want to know. Not yet. If she were going to see this girl as a child, if they were going to put themselves on the line for her, Dahlia didn't want to know yet exactly what they were taking on. To her own shame, she was worried that her resolve to help Wren rather than clean her hands of her would waver. The thought that she might turn this girl in to who knows what fate made her queasy. But Dahlia didn't know what to expect of herself anymore.  Such was the war.

And what were they going to do?

"If we get an 'all clear' from the guard, if they move on to another neighborhood, we can take her to my house for a few days until hopefully they've given up on her. God knows they have enough other shadows and suspicions to chase. I have a workshop that no one will enter," Dahlia offered wearily. She knew the 'plan' overlooked the possibility of not being released by the guard without them asking more questions or having another look around, but it felt better to offer some idea. "I... I don't think I could bring you in the house proper, Wren. Children ask a lot of questions," so would the household staff, but she didn't want to add that now, "and I think it'd be safer for everyone if only Barnabas and I knew you were there. What do you think? We can clean you up, get you new clothes..."

But Dahlia didn't get a chance to finish her sentence, and she was released from having to hypothesize about what might happen if the guard returned, because before she could speak her next word, the door slammed open.

"Apothecary? Show yourselves!"

It was the unmistakable voice of the soldiers who had already searched the shop. Dahlia swore under her breath and quickly pulled off her shawl and threw it around Wren, tying it over her to hide the tear in her shirt. It would probably be a useless gesture if the soldiers came in, but any small detail might help. Then she looked from Wren to Barnabas to see what the apothecary keeper would do.

[Vivi]

It sounded like a reasonable plan, and it probably had a chance of working too, were it not for one small detail. The barking voice of a soldier caused poor Wren to jump, the door of his shop slamming open so hard that Barnabas winced. There was a moment of horrified silence, then both he and Dahlia sprang into action. The shawl was around Wren's scrawny little neck before he could blink, the mageling's face pale and her knuckles white where she gripped the crate. Barnabas however, was already halfway to the door, turning to catch Dahlia in a piercing stare. He pointed at her, then at the ground by his feet. You, stay. He pointed to the door, cupping his ear. Listen.

He gave both women what was probably a bracing nod, and left without a word. The soldiers were not about to be so lucky.

"What?" He demanded, the moment he entered the shop. His cane was set firmly on the ground, his hands folded atop it to quell any signs of nerves - not that he'd have any with these green little excuses for 'soldiers'. Disrespectful bullies not yet shaving was more like it. "I've shown myself, called like a bloody dog, so what is it?"

"The fugitive has not been apprehended." One of them told him as if he hadn't spoken, and Barnabas looked daggers at him. Unfortunately, neither of them was quelled by his glare, matching it with two of their own. "You should be free to go about your business when we move on, sir. Inform your customer that she is advised to return to her home immediately. Unless-" And here, the soldiers voice took on what he clearly thought was a sly, conspiratorial tone. "You have something you want to tell us...?"

"No." Barnabas declared flatly, before the words were fully out of his mouth. "I ain't - and ain't you got places to be 'stead of asking stupid questions? Do I have something to say? Gods be good, man, how the 'ell do you expect a cripple to do anythin' with them mages? Use your bloody brains."

The soldiers eyes went cold. "Careful now." He sneered, and he shared a look with his comrade that Barnabas didn't especially like. "You don't want to get yourself arrested, do you... sir?"

Barnabas snorted, with a bravado he didn't wholly feel. "What? So a man speakin' his mind is a crime, now?" Inside however, his stomach dropped.

Ah yes. The other problem with bullies. Sometimes they didn't care for being talked back to.

[kleineklementine]

Dahlia put an arm around Wren in what she knew would be a futile gesture of comfort if the soldiers decided to come back here. and watched Barnabas leave the store room to go deal with the soldiers. The two women both sat motionless and rapt, listening to what transpired in the shop front. Or Dahlia, at least, was motionless. Wren was shaking like a leaf. Dahlia squeezed her a little tighter, listening, and felt like a ton of bricks had been lifted off her shoulders when she heard, “The fugitive has not been apprehended. You should be free to go about your business when we move on, sir. Inform your customer that she is advised to return to her home immediately.”

Dahlia exhaled slowly, thanking Angsar, and even Wren managed a hopeful smile. But then the conversation turned icy again and Wren went rigid. The girl looked at Dahlia with wide, frightened eyes as the soldiers ‘casually’ asked Barnabas if he wanted to end up arrested. This was not good. For any of them. And, though she didn’t know the man, Dahlia found herself doubtful that Barnabas would be able to charm or argue himself gracefully out of this situation. So she gave Wren another squeeze, and an encouraging smile that was probably devoid of confidence, and picked herself up. Motioning for Wren to stay put, Dahlia crept out of the storeroom. Once she was in the work room, she didn’t make a large effort to be silent. After all, she was meant to be here. She picked something up and set it down, as though she’d been doing something, then made her way into the front room.

“Barnabas, the mixture is -” she started, as though she’d come to update the apothecary keeper about some goings on in the work room, but turned to the soldiers upon seeing them. “Sorry, have you caught the fugitive? Are we free to go?”

“No, we-”

One guard started answering, but the other cut him off with a smug sneer. “Depends on what’s going on here. Our friend,” he nodded to Barnabas, “was just volunteering to come in for some questioning.”

Dahlia hadn’t really decided what tactic to use when she’d entered the store front, but once she saw the smug confidence of the guards - who couldn’t have been more than 18 - anger flashed through her and she decided to follow it and double down on Barnabas’s indignation. It might not be the best plan, but an incensed woman might still strike fear where an angry man would not.

“Excuse me,” Dahlia snapped authoritatively, pulling herself up to her full height, “do you mean that you haven’t found the mage, and you’re here interrogating civilians when there’s a dangerous criminal still on the streets? Do you know there’s a war going on?”

The left guard shuffled a bit, looking uncertain, but the right guard’s sneer only darkened. “Listen here, ma’am -”

But Dahlia didn’t let him finish. “No, you listen here. I'm sure you feel very self-important patrolling the streets here in Uthlyn where there’s almost no conflict. But there are real soldiers out there dying in real conflict. My husband, Lord Karol Gray, was killed in conflict only weeks ago. And I don’t think he died so that some teenagers can threaten invalids and widows.”

“Oh, Lady Gray, we didn’t realize…” the left guard muttered awkwardly, looking thoroughly chastised.

But the right guard glowered, and Dahlia knew she’d made a mistake using her name and found herself making a mental note that she needed to ask Leanna if she would take her children, if anything ever happened to her. Then, hoping to make up for it and turn the tables, she added the demand, “What are your names and ranks? I think my father, Lord Treyburn, might need to talk to the head of the guards about how things are being run here.”

Dahlia hated using clout like this, but she knew she couldn’t pose enough of a threat as a woman, Lady or not, and Darryn Treyburn still had sway in the military after his retirement, and hopefully these soldiers would know it.

The soldiers grudgingly provided the information requested and the left guard looked like he was more than ready to leave the apothecary, but the right guard paused, his expression smoldering, and glared beyond Dahlia and Barnabas at the door to the back rooms of the apothecary.

[Vivi]

Barnabas was gripping his stick so tightly it was a wonder it didn't snap, eyes narrowed and jaw set. Damn, damn, damn his temper and damn his mouth along with it! That was the problem with these sorts, especially in wartime: mouth off to them and there was only a fifty percent chance of them being cowed. The other fifty involved a cell and a few good kicks when the more law-abiding officers weren't watching. He'd never been one to keep his indignation secret, and now that might very well make things worse. He opened his mouth again, but before he could come out with whatever protest or tirade he'd been planning, there was a genteel little voice behind them.

Three heads whipped around at once with varying degrees of glares and questioning stares. One of the soldiers sneered, and Barnabas had the sudden urge to whack the smug little git about the head. Thankfully, this turned out to be exactly the wrong thing to do, and Dahlia switched instantly from civility to pure ice.

Gods, he could almost have kissed her for that - up until the point where she mentioned her late husband. He stiffened, turning to look at her with wide eyes.

Lady Grey? Gods be good, he had nobility in his shop?

No, clearly none of us bloody realised! He wanted to snap back, but for once he held his tongue as the soldiers cringed, suddenly not nearly so brave in the face of retribution from higher up the pecking order. Well, far be it for him to look a gift horse in the mouth. He let them squirm, passing on their information like scolded schoolchildren, and it was all he could do not to crow. That said, the bully of the bunch still didn't look too happy, and Barnabas doubted that snarling again would help that much. Instead, he opted for a different tactic.

"Alright, alright, we've all thrown our weight about now." He groaned, looking from one to the other with the same (not entirely feigned) utterly weary look. "Look, I jus' want to get back to work, alright? I've 'ad this mixture on the simmer for three days, an' f'this boils over I got to start all over again." He jerked his thumb to the back room. "Come on, lads, be reasonable: this war's got us all a to-do list long as yer arm."

"That is hardly our concern." The officer sneered, but he quickly seemed to be losing enthusiasm for his bullying, especially with a very annoyed member of the aristocracy glaring at him. "But we have more important things to do than waste time here." Barnabas bit back a retort as he whispered something to his comrade, and the two of them wheeled about and marched back out of the door without so much as a goodbye, the door slamming behind them. The instant that it did, Barnabas's poise left him, sinking back against the counter with a groan.

"Flamin' 'ell... Not that I ain't grateful an' all, but Lady Grey? You were keepin' that quiet!"

[kleineklementine]

Dahlia watched stiffly, her stance remaining assertive, until the guards finally left the shop. She was grateful for Barnabas's low-key return to the confrontation. She wasn't sure how much more hot air she could have conjured up to send them off. Her body remained tense for a few moments after they left, her eyes set hard on the door through which they'd exited, until some cracks began to appear in her posture, and finally she completely deflated in a long exhale. She ran her hand uncertainly into her mess of curls, still watching the door, until Barnabas's words reached her and she looked at him, exhausted and perhaps a hint of embarrassment.

"Well, it didn't seem pertinent until then," she answered sheepishly. Then added, even mores, "Sorry about the 'invalid' remark. Just trying to cow them. I'm not entirely sure how successful it was, though. I wouldn't be surprised if they pay you another visit later when they expect they can catch you off your guard..." She'd just have to hope that her status was privileged enough that she didn't have to worry about the same thing. But Dahlia wasn't entirely certain that would be the case... She didn't speak this concern now, though.

"I think," she finally said, "that once these goons have cleared he neighborhood - it shouldn't be too long now - we don't waste any time in moving our scraggly little bird. I have a small carriage. I can drive you both to my home for the time being..."

[Vivi]

All the energy seemed to have drained out of them along with the tension, Dahlia drooping the moment the door snapped shut behind them. He couldn't see his own face, but Barnabas doubted he fared better: standing tense and ramrod straight had set his old wound to aching, and it hadn't done his mood a world of good either. Slumped back against the counter, he massaged at his knee with both hands, paying little attention to Lady Dahlia's sheepish expression.

"Reckon you're right. Don't matter f'you're a lady or not when you're gettin' a remedy." He said, giving her a thin little smile. He straightened up with a grunt, her apology earning her a wry chuckle. "S'alright." He shrugged. "S'not exactly an insult when it's true, is it? I call meself a cripple all the time, it is how it is." He was not nearly so amiable at the mention of those damn soldiers though, shooting a dark look at the door as though they were still standing on the other side. "You think so?" He sniffed, face settling back into a scowl. "Well. Ain't that something to look forward to? Bunch of bloody wastes of space..."

He might have settled further into a little muttering jag, insulting them nice and roundly for a while, but Dahlia's pronouncement had him blinking in surprise. Eyebrows arched, he looked back to the storage room where Wren was presumably still sat shaking. "What, the lot of us? As in all three?"

[kleineklementine]

Dahlia had, somehow, never thought of taking Wren on her own, of leaving Barnabas behind and it showed. Though the lack of necessity of the apothecary - who was, after all, a stranger - going with her now seemed perfectly obvious once he posed the question. Somehow it had just seemed that since, well, they had come into this unfortunate predicament together they would naturally see it out together. She hadn't even thought of it. But, then again, Dahlia wasn't thinking too clearly these days.

"Oh. No. I suppose that doesn't..." But she trailed off, her grey eyes wandering to their corners as Dahlia recalculated the situation in her head. The weight of taking Wren on her own seemed to physically fall onto her. Suddenly she found herself remembering what Wren said happened to the last people who harbored her. Shouldn't Dahlia be thinking of her own children? But those questions were pointless. She knew that she wouldn't go back on this now. But alone... Maybe, she thought to herself, Jana could help, though Dahlia didn't even know how to get in touch with her. Dahlia was beginning to feel more than a little frightened. (As though she hadn't been already).

Kerry, she was sure, would have known what to do.

Slowly emerging again from her reverie, she finally said, somewhat robotically, "Okay, then. I can, um, I can draw the carriage around, then, in a minute. Do you have a crate or something... large enough?" She didn't want to openly say 'to hide her in.' "That you could, um, get read, then?"

[Vivi]

Somewhere down the line, it seemed that both of them had misunderstood. While Dahlia had never dreamed of going alone, Barnabas had always assumed he'd be left behind. Once that door shut behind the lady and her mageling charge, he hadn't expected to ever see them again - which, to his credit, had had him feeling rather concerned. Evidently though, some communication had failed somewhere.

"Well." He said, floundering, "I, uh, I wouldn't say no, ye understand. Reckon you could do with all the help you can get right this minute. I just assumed..." He too, trailed off, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck. Her shoulders looked ready to buckle under some imagined weight, the grey quality that he'd seen when she entered settling back onto her face. Gods be good, what kind of man left a lady to shoulder a burden like that by herself? Especially when she, a lady already so burdened as it was, had worked so hard to be helpful that morning.

"Look." He said briskly, straightening up with a grunt. "You get yer carriage, and I'll see ter packin' the little bird in somethin', nab a bit o' food and that..." He cast about his shop for more ideas, eyes alighting on the bottles nearest to him. "We can say I'm supervisin' a delivery as your, uh... physician. Or something like that." His grin was a little uncertain, shrugging. "I mean, I've still got yer sleep solution to give you, ain't I?"

[kleineklementine]

In other circumstances, Dahlia might have remembered that it would be more polite to refuse Barnabas's offer of help - at least once! - but in that moment, she was only relieved, and extremely grateful. She looked up at him with a small, almost shy smile and soft gray eyes in a silent 'thank you.' One might think by looking at her that Barnabas had just saved her life. She knew, of course, that he was no more interested in being tied up in this than she was.

"Alright," she agreed, nodding slowly. "I... I probably shouldn't be trusted making such a delivery on my own, anyway. Especially when the contents are so volatile." Dahlia tried a wry smile, though it came out a bit feebly. "I don't think anyone would question that. Fragile, demure little thing that I am." This was meant of course as a joke, or an attempt at one, but there was probably much more truth in than Dahlia would like to admit. Dahlia nodded resolutely, for her own benefit as much as anyone else's. "Right. I'll be back soon."

...

People were slowly starting to mill about the street again after the soldiers had come through to give the All Clear. Dahlia's ears burned with the whispers she heard on her short walk to her horse and carriage. All about how the soldiers didn't find the mage and how, Angsar help us, the criminal might still be at large on this very street, and whether someone in their midst wasn't a secret mage sympathizer, and how there were, after all, rumors of misguided fools and traitors smuggling mages out of Connlaoth, probably to form mage armies in Serendipity and come back and kill them all. The jumble of it all made Dahlia a bit faint. She shook herself out of it, but couldn't help but worry that everyone could see through her. That it was obvious that she had the criminal, that she was the one who might end up smuggling a mage... out of Connlaoth? Maybe. Dahlia hadn't made it quite that far yet.

When she reached the carriage, she untied the cream-colored horse, "Clover," and led her by the reins rather than driving the carriage the short distance. Barnabas, she guessed, might need the extra time for dealing with Wren. There was a small access around the side of Barnabas's shop, no doubt for receiving and sending shipments, though probably usually of a different nature! Securing the horse again, Dahlia gave her a pet on the nose before returning into the shop to see how Barnabas was faring.