Free Burial of hearts the black widow's malice by N Parnham Page B

no force to break him. Quickly leaving the
bakers, I shouted over to him to stop; he turned and squinted at me, but he did
not slow down. Starting to sprint, I juggled between speed and holding onto my
supper. He was gaining momentum and was soon to be out of sight; my leg was
giving way, still in pain from the night before.
    Stopping
him in his tracks, a young individual from the panotti, tackled Joshua; warding
him off with the threat of a strike, but without hurting him.
    “You
should be more careful who you trust… sorry what is your name? I am Camerine,
second son to my father Bero, grandchild to the heralded late Leoui”.
     “ Thank
you , I am Avis. I was not at all expecting him to do that after the story
he had told me. I thought he would have a deeper respect for people’s
possessions”. I said, at the same time glancing at his enormous ears that
almost wrapped around his figure.
    “Let
me warrant a guess, a sob story of how his father died and how he and his
mother struggles? ”. Camerine said all the time giving
a stagnant expression on his face.
    “Yes…
how did you know of that? ”.
    “It
is his routine, he tries it with all the new folks in town; sometimes it works,
sometimes like now , there are people who know him well enough to ward
him off. If you were wondering, his father is very much alive and he is in on
the scheme they have. I would say it was criminal what they do, but no one
takes any notice; the guards get their bribes and no word is said”.
    “Sounds delightful; well at least I know one more person to avoid; I will not
fuss over the coin, he did as I asked, so he got his just reward”.
    “No
doubt you will see him again. So are you new here? I do not think I recognise
your face and I am quite the memory giant, makes up for my small stature I
suppose ”.
    “Yes,
I only arrived here today. I have managed to rent a room above the slaughterhouse
and I am just coming to grasps with this place; seems a little surreal to be truthfully honest”.
    “You
will soon become quite accustomed to this place, quirky as it may be. If
you are in need of a job, I run a modest maid lodge; we cater for the upper classes in society, our most renowned being Hecate”.
    Looking
at my cart indirectly, as the wheels creaked in the breeze, I considered his
offer; silent words formulating plans, unforeseen by any other.
    “You
say you work for Hecate? What does this job entail? ”.
    “We
do, but she is somewhat particular about which members of staff are allowed
within her household, so you would have to begin with another client of ours;
if of course you are willing? You would be undertaking mostly household tasks,
but you may be needed to also prepare food and collect whatsoever the client
requests. May I ask why the spark of interest in Hecate? ”.
    “Sorry,
but it is a private matter, something very personal to me. I am rather
interested in the job, when can I begin? ”.
    “Fair
enough, I understand. Tomorrow we have a new client ‘Mr Bullwort’ we are in the
process of finalising the bookkeeping, if you could meet me outside the
slaughterhouse at sunrise; please do not be late, he is keen on punctuality and
as a new client we want to make a worthy impression”.
    Parting
company with Camerine, I lifted the cart, resting it upon my shoulder as I
pulled it back over to the slaughterhouse.
    It
took me several journeys to get all the items I had bought back into my room;
the landlord must have thought I was attempting a record for the most annoying
tenant, as I dropped my items, thudding repetitively upon the floorboards.
    I
placed my newly bought items in their rightful homes; my garments in the
wardrobe, changing the covers on my bed as well as the curtains and placing the
rug before the bed. On my desk, I rested the new ornaments, moving the books
into the topmost draw. My room for now, looked a little bit more ladylike; no
longer just a dingy, sweaty castoff; now a respectable stronghold of