“Ten shillings.”
“Seems like an awful lot for an old apple.”
The vendor shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “Supply and demand. I only have a few left. If you don’t want it, someone else will and you can go hungry.”
Solomon considered. “Tell you what,” he said. “I’ll give you your money and you can keep your apple. But I want information on the woman you never saw.”
In truth, he didn’t know how much the coins in his pack were worth here in this world. But he had brought some gold and silver with him, and that was usually good anywhere. He took the pack from his shoulders and balanced it on the edge of the cart, reaching inside. Moments later, he held up a gold coin.
The vendor’s eyes widened, telling Solomon that the coin was enough.
“Now,” he said. “What can you tell me?”
The vendor scratched his stubbly beard and rubbed his jaw. He was obviously working through how much he needed to tell Solomon.
“All of it,” Solomon said, “or you get nothing. And I’ll know if you’re lying.”
Would he? Maybe, he thought to himself. So far, this surly man wore his heart on his sleeve and was easy to read.
“I saw her once, earlier this afternoon. And I only think she’s the one you’re after because of her height. She was unnaturally tall, like you. The only such one I’ve seen.”
Solomon nodded. “I’m guessing she did that.” He pointed at the vendors swollen lip and red nose.
“Well, you’d be wrong,” the vendor snarled. “This happened earlier in the day than that. I was minding my own business when I… I tripped. I fell and hit my nose on the edge of the cart. That’s all.”
Solomon smiled again. Whatever happened, Celia had given this guy a good one. Given his demeanor, Solomon couldn’t say that he blamed her.
“Okay, we’ll say that’s true. Where did you last see her?”
“Round the fountain. It’s where all of us trying to earn an honest living set up. Folk know to come there for what they need, and they know me as an honest and hardworking friend to them.”
Honest twice in a row? Someone was overcompensating. From what he had seen already, Solomon had no doubt that this vendor was more the norm than the exception in this place.
“Around the fountain then. Which you’ll point me in the direction of in a minute. But first, where did she go from there?”
The apple vendor shrugged. “How should I know? Like I said, I only noticed her because of her size. She didn’t come to my cart.”
“Was she with anyone else? Someone you might know and could tell me where to find them?”
“Nah. She was walking with two old geezers. They didn’t buy from me either, so I had no use for them. Now, that’s all I know. I’ve done what I said, now give me my coin.”
“The fountain?”
The vendor pointed back up the street in the direction from which he came. “That way. You can’t miss it.”
Solomon tossed him the coin. The vendor snatched it from the air, made it disappear into a pocket and began shoving his cart forward before Solomon was fully out of the way. He moved aside, but the edge of it caught his hip.
Usually, that wouldn’t have bothered him. This time, it caused his right leg to buckle at the knee and he stumbled forward. The vendor smirked as he passed.
For a moment, Solomon wanted to lash out and give him a blow that would make the one Celia delivered feel like a soft caress, but he held back. There was no sense in it.
Besides, his knee felt strange. The back of it burned and itched and he was having a hard time bending it. Grimacing, he made his way to the side of the street and sat down on steps leading up to an abandoned building. Gingerly stretching his leg out in front of him, he touched the area behind his knee.
Fire tore through his leg. Looking down, he saw that the back of his hand was red and beginning to swell. The rat hadn’t gotten him there as deeply as on his leg, so it wasn’t as bad.
Solomon had never had a cut get infected before. Not even when the Soul Gaunt slashed his face and mangled his arm and shoulder. Maybe that was because Willow tended to him then, but he had plenty of scars elsewhere from other battles, and none of them ever did this.
Whatever was infecting this place must have spread to the vermin also. Great, just what he needed.
There were no medical supplies in his pack. It never occurred to him to bring them. Maybe there was someone in town, some sort of healer who could help him.
He rose carefully to his feet and limped down the road, keeping his eyes out for some sign that would tell him a healer was present. A signboard hung above the street, a placard in a dirty window, or even a line of the sick and injured waiting to be seen. There was nothing.
“Excuse me,” he tried again, and again after that, always finding the same reactions as when he first entered the town. No one would stop, no one would help, even though he was in obvious pain.
Finally, he couldn’t walk any further and collapsed against a wall, his long legs stuck out in front of him. People who passed either stepped over him without a word or a glance, or crossed the street to avoid him entirely. A few, less careful than the others, inadvertently kicked his leg, and went on their way without an apology, ignoring his gasp of pain.
Solomon wasn’t sure how long he sat there. His head was getting light and he felt hot, sweat breaking out on his brow.
