Luca (1)
The lute sang a beautiful melody.
Cedric raised his voice from the inn’s stage.
“Ooh. As the shadow mage’s gesture draws the sepia shadows into dance, the jaguar racing before them has lost the road ahead.”
He was still singing the tale of the Shadow Mage.
“Black hair gleaming like pitch. Eyes dyed black as night. The Shadow Mage, blacker than magic itself, has pronounced his sentence of death.”
Only now, the song had changed in subtle ways.
It named features he had never mentioned before.
That had been Lawrence’s request.
If Cedric was going to adapt the story anyway, then he should describe the build, the face, the overall appearance.
All of it, in different ways.
Just in case anyone ever mistook him for the Shadow Mage.
Later, he had heard from Elvira.
Women who visited Cedric’s room, apparently, received treatment fit for a lady.
Think about it. He prepares fine food and wine right on time. He sings with all his heart, for one person alone. And when they leave the room, he even presses the money he earned from the previous night’s performance into their hands without hesitation. What woman wouldn’t be pleased? Especially if she has a story she can’t speak of.
Everyone wanted to be loved.
Even a whore selling her body in the lowest gutters.
Even a poor woman suffering in the depths.
Even a plain, ordinary girl who could be found anywhere.
Cedric did not seduce them with lofty words.
Heart to heart, that was how it worked.
He was giving them everything he had.
It was only that the place his heart was pointed toward was not one woman alone.
At first, his song had seemed to have no redeeming value whatsoever, but somehow, today, it sounded rather good.
* * *
Lawrence unfolded the paper.
The map, drawn by someone who clearly couldn’t read, mixed shapes and symbols into a rough sketch of the Gutter’s streets.
It wasn’t so crude that he couldn’t make sense of it.
On the contrary, the little illustrations added to the distinctive features of each building made it easier to tell where he was.
Which buildings stood nearby.
What structures were around him.
A skull-marked building, for example, was a warning not to get too close.
As long as he had this map, he wouldn’t get lost.
“May I ask one favor?”
Lawrence remembered Cedric’s words as he had been handed the map.
“Just as you told me about the day you brought down the bugbear, I’d like you to tell me, after this is over, a broad account of what happened.”
Cedric might have been unable to sing worth a damn, but he was still a bard.
He seemed convinced that this, too, could become the stuff of legend.
For now, Lawrence had said he would think about it.
Honestly, there didn’t seem to be much he could say openly.
Everywhere in the Gutter, people’s eyes followed him.
From the rooftops. From cracks between alleys. Even from the lowest stretch of road.
Their owners watched the uninvited stranger with suspicion.
Especially in the narrow lanes, where beggars huddled so thickly they nearly blocked the way, he often had no choice but to detour.
Were they staying silent because they wanted to see what he would do?
Or because they didn’t want to provoke him carelessly?
Either way, it wasn’t the worst possible situation.
Just this much was enough to make his effort to dress properly worthwhile.
After comparing the map with the streets around him for a while, Lawrence set off.
The first house was the sort of shack one saw everywhere in the Gutter.
Every broken window had been patched over with boards, and the gaps around the door had been stitched shut with filthy blankets, presumably for warmth.
When he knocked, he heard footsteps approaching the door.
“Who’s there?”
The owner’s eyes, visible through the barred door, were filled with wariness.
“I came by to ask a few questions.”
“Go away.”
At that firm rejection, Lawrence took out what he had prepared.
Bread and water.
Not much, but enough to last several days if eaten sparingly.
“It’s nothing difficult. If you don’t know, you don’t have to answer.”
“……”
Instead of answering, the owner held out a hand.
Like a bird snatching at a worm, he grabbed the food and water.
“Go on, then.”
“Have you perhaps seen any strange buildings inside the alleyways?”
“What do you mean, strange? To an outsider, everything in this alley would look strange.” There was open mockery in his voice.
“I mean a building with a completely different feel. Not a house like this, or somewhere people live. A place whose purpose you can’t tell at a glance. Have you seen anything like that?”
“No.”
“I see. Thank you for your time—”
Before Lawrence could finish, the door shut in his face.
He wasn’t disappointed by the cold response.
It was the same everywhere here.
He supposed he’d have to be satisfied with having gotten an answer at all.
He moved on to the second house marked on the map.
“A strange building? Maybe I’d remember if you gave me more bread.”
It was an old man with all his front teeth missing.
Seeing the lie for what it was, Lawrence bowed his head.
The third house belonged to a middle-aged woman.
“I remember hearing rumors that there’s some suspicious building deeper in the alleys. But I don’t know if it’s the one you’re after. I heard it was a place where children used to play. If that’s enough for you, why don’t you go have a look?”
That was an unexpected lead.
In thanks, he gave her an extra loaf of bread and a bottle of milk.
The woman accepted them without hesitation, then tossed out one last warning.
“These days they say a dog-catcher’s been around. Be careful not to die.”
Dog-catcher.
One of the smugglers Morris had told him about, the kind who smuggled people across the border.
He wanted to ask why he should be wary of them, but the door was already shut tight.
He would simply have to remember it for now.
A suspicious building where dog-catchers came and went.
If it was in the deeper alleys, it might be quite far in.
From the fourth house onward, he asked one more question.
“I’m looking for a strange building.”
“Never heard of it.”
“One more thing. I heard there’s a suspicious building deeper in the alleys where children play.”
“I said I don’t know.”
There were still many houses marked on the map.
“A building where children play? Ah, yes, I’ve heard of it. Wasn’t it some kind of playground where the children danced and sang?”
“A playground?”
“Yeah. Or so I heard. The orphans here keep piling up all sorts of junk, so there’s supposedly a ridiculous amount of trash there too. Why are you looking for a place like that?”
“There’s something I’d like to confirm.”
He gathered the information he’d collected so far.
The suspicious building was deep inside the Gutter.
That building had once served as a playground for children.
Now it had become a dangerous place frequented by dog-catchers.
A place freely entered and left by the Gutter’s residents was called a sanctuary?
Lawrence drew a line through the last item.
He didn’t need his personal opinion for now.
What mattered was that the suspicious building existed.
The problem was that no resident knew exactly where it was.
Or perhaps they simply didn’t want to tell him.
Given how wary everyone was, the latter seemed more likely.
That wasn’t good.
Knowing something existed meant nothing if you couldn’t find it.
Maybe he should ask Cedric one more time.
He didn’t know who the woman was that had drawn this map, but if she had this level of skill, maybe she at least knew roughly where it was.
But Lawrence soon shook his head.
No. That was asking too much.
The map he’d been given showed only the entrance to the Gutter.
Nothing at all was drawn for the center.
The woman who had provided this map probably lived near the edge of the Gutter.
Lawrence could guess why she hadn’t drawn the inside.
Either she simply didn’t know, or she avoided the dangerous parts.
Judging by the atmosphere of the Gutter, it was clearly the latter.
That was not especially encouraging news.
Had he visited about ten houses marked on the map?
White snow began to drift through the cramped alleyways.
The day had felt cold from morning.
With his vestment under a thick robe, it wasn’t unbearable, but it was a different story for the residents of the Gutter, living in half-collapsed shacks.
The beggars who had been sitting at corners here and there were gone now, he noticed, as if they had vanished without a trace.
The sound of bolts sliding shut echoed from all around the alleys.
He also heard the unsettling noise of heavy loads being moved.
Lawrence knew it was all a desperate attempt to keep the cold from seeping through the cracks.
Even if he kept visiting houses, fewer and fewer residents would open their doors.
He should probably call it a day and go back.
Honestly, for a first day, it wasn’t a bad result.
Compared with having had no clues at all until now, it was positively encouraging.
Lawrence unfolded the map again.
The next house was a little awkwardly placed.
If it had been a place he was coming back to tomorrow anyway, he could have simply gone back now, but this house sat at the very edge of the map.
If he didn’t go today, he’d have to waste his steps twice.
Should he stop here?
Doing things twice didn’t suit his temperament.
After checking the remaining supplies, Lawrence set off along the map.
When he arrived and saw the house, he frowned.
He knew this place.
The first day he had come to Rombamel.
It was the home of the pickpocket who had dared to target Lawrence’s bag.
The pickpocket’s house had no preparations at all for keeping out the cold.
The door didn’t even close properly, and the boards nailed over the broken window were haphazard and flimsy.
Lawrence hated winter.
Heat, at least, could be endured somehow.
But cold had no real way to be fought off.
Suddenly, he thought of the friends who had once lived in a pile of collapsed buildings.
Back then, everyone’s warmth had been enough to help them endure.
The bond of being connected to someone.
The warmth rooted deep in Lawrence’s heart still nestled against his shoulders even now.
His hesitation was brief.
It was the last house, after all.
He didn’t know about the pickpocket, but the girl who had been the older sister had at least been able to talk.
With a faint creak, the door opened before even a light knock could test it.
At once, Lawrence’s expression hardened.
A foul stench rose from inside.
It was a familiar smell.
A stain like something that never left the back alleys no matter where you went.
The room had been swallowed by the chill of death.
Lawrence’s guess had been correct.
At the center of the room, where a broken table stood, lay a corpse.
A small body.
A cap covering the face.
He didn’t know how many days had passed since death.
Because of the cold, decomposition seemed to have progressed less than it otherwise might have.
There was no need to lift the cap to check.
The corpse was the pickpocket, the very same child.
Then what had become of the child’s older sister?
Looking around the room, Lawrence soon found her.
The girl wrapped in a blanket looked as though her soul had left her body.
Her gaze was unfocused.
Her hands, drawn around her own arms, did not move.
She only sat there.
Only there, abandoned and empty.
Just sitting in place.
“……”
So the younger sibling was dead, and only the elder sister remained?
He watched her for a moment longer, then set the bread and water down in front of her.
It was a pity, but he had no intention of helping her.
The moment you reached out a hand, responsibility followed.
He didn’t go sticking his nose into things he couldn’t take responsibility for all the way through.
It wasn’t for nothing that others usually chose to look away.
He would feel sorry for her, of course.
But that was all.
Unless the fundamental problem was solved, nothing would change.
Literally, on a citywide scale.
Unless the Church itself extended its hand.
And even then, this was a child who had no will to live on her own.
If she intended to follow her younger sibling to the grave, there was nothing Lawrence could do for her.
Still, as someone who had once stood in a similar place,
he supposed he could leave her with a word or two of advice.
“Listen closely. If you don’t fight, you can’t survive in this world.”
Lawrence continued quietly.
“You already know that. If you have no strength, someone will use you and you’ll die. If you don’t want that, you have to get up and fight for yourself. You have to walk on your own.”
That was the truth of the world learned by a boy from the back alleys.
With those words, Lawrence left the girl behind.
* * *
The next day.
After gathering information in the Gutter, Lawrence visited the girl’s house.
The younger brother’s corpse was still there, unchanged.
The girl had not moved from her place either.
Only one thing had changed.
The bread and water Lawrence had left there were gone.
“……”
No words were necessary.
Leaving the same bread and water in the same place, Lawrence stepped back out of the house.
And the next day as well.
And the day after that.
By the time he had nearly gone through every house on the map Cedric had given him,
the girl finally opened her mouth.
“Why didn’t you let me die?”
Her tears had already dried on her face.
Her ragged, broken voice dragged up a dry cough.
“Was it because you’re a priest of the Church?”
Bitterness without anywhere to go colored her words.
“I didn’t save you. You chose to live.”
Lawrence cut her off sharply.
He had no intention of indulging her complaints.
“If you had wanted to die, you shouldn’t have eaten. If you had wanted to die, you shouldn’t have drunk. But you took the bread and water by your own will. Do you truly think I forced that on you?”
All of this had been the girl’s choice.
To not die like this. To survive by her own hand.
“……”
The girl had nothing to say in reply.
Seeing her head droop helplessly, he spoke again in a low voice.
“Under the Goddess’s name, when two or three gather together, She is with us. May the Goddess’s blessing rest upon your path.”
Lawrence left behind what would be the last of the bread and water, then turned away.
….
…….
“……”
Seated in the hall, holding a glass of milk, Lawrence’s expression was grave.
He had visited every house on the map, but in the end he had failed to find the rumored building.
That didn’t mean he had done nothing to try.
He had searched the Gutter at random as well, but the alleys were so tangled that getting to anywhere promising was out of the question. More often than not, he simply found himself spilled back out into the street.
The building was definitely inside the Gutter.
There had been a few people who didn’t know anything, but when enough of their accounts overlapped, he couldn’t dismiss it as a rumor without substance.
The problem was that he couldn’t get there.
Even Cedric couldn’t help with that.
According to what he’d heard, the woman who drew the map didn’t know the inner parts of the Gutter very well either.
He had no choice but to ask the guild for help, but…
Honestly, it was hard to expect much.
“Lawrence.”
“What is it?”
It was Anne.
She pointed toward the inn’s entrance.
“Some beggar came asking for you. Do you know her?”
Lawrence looked toward the doorway.
There, he saw a scruffy girl with sky-blue hair.
“If you don’t know her, I’ll throw her out. We get beggars coming in here all the time like this, looking to eat for free.”
“No, it’s fine. I know her. Say, is there any stew left from the one I ordered this morning?”
“I can make stew in no time. But I’m charging you extra. Not a single customer likes seeing beggars brought into the inn.”
Lawrence handed her five coppers.
“Stew and some warm milk. Please bring them up to my room.”
“As always, thank you very much.”
Anne bowed with exaggerated politeness.