Ahri strode into her mother's office right behind her, only to find the woman opening drawer after drawer to find a pen and a piece of paper. Eleanor found a wooden chair to sit down and a clear spot on the table to write a message.
"What is that?"
"A message to a friend. I need to make arrangements for you."
"What about you?"
Eleanor looked up to meet her daughter's eyes, and Ahri realized there were secrets there she couldn't even begin to understand.
"I can't go for now. They can't retaliate against me, the common folk need the shop. Come, we need to dye your hair."
Ahri's eyes widened, and she instinctively grabbed a strand of her silvery-white hair that rested on her shoulders.
"Why?"
"You know why, Ahri. And it's temporary, you can wash the dye out when it's safe."
Eleanor walked way too fast for her leg size and used the small bench to reach the upper shelves in her office. Three jars down later, her mother walked to the other side of the house where she kept the water buckets.
"Wet your hair," she commanded.
"Mother, I know it's easy to recognize me, but I promise I'll just go get her and come back here, nobody will see my hair."
"Ahri, look at me. I know I raised a brave girl, but I also raised a smart one. You can't bring her back here once she's free. They'll come looking, and I can't keep her safe."
Keep her safe. Ahri got too absorbed in the idea of freeing the dragon and had overlooked the following repercussions. The church would retaliate, that was for sure. And they'd want they devote-maker back at any cost. Since the healings, the Faith had gained not only more followers but also a considerable amount of money from the noble families for the honor of being healed.
Eleanor worked on her hair as the thoughts of the future ran wild in her mind. She watched as her silvery-white locks were covered with the dark mix of henna and black tea to become a reddish brown.
"Where will I go?"
"South. We have friends there."
Ahri wanted to cry out of anger and grief, but she was too stunned with the events of the day to summon the tears. She knew Eleanor wouldn't say more, so she decided instead to keep moving and figure it out along the way. Ahri sorted out a backpack with a few clothes and essentials, and Eleanor wrapped up flasks with the basics for her to take. She wouldn't be a healer's daughter if her escape bag didn't have at least a few green leaves sticking out of it.
Ahri was feeling the reluctance of a teenage girl unwilling to leave her life behind, but she refused to play the part. She knew way too well how the Faith worked when antagonized, and if her mother had ways to keep her safe, she'd have to accept it.
"How do you know that dragon?"
"Her name is Leah, Ahri." Eleanor's eyes swam in conflicting emotions. "I helped her delivery," she answered after a couple of minutes.
Ahri took a few seconds to adjust to the fact that her mother once acted as a midwife to a baby dragon. There were too many questions, and she was not even sure how she was still packing in the face of this news. But one thing she knew about Eleanor was that she said what she wanted, when she wanted to say it. No words could convince her to spill her secrets before time.
"Ok, Mum. I think I have a plan."
The duo worked together that night, as they did countless times before. St. Hollots' map was drawn in Ahri's mind as if she were the one who built it. Eleanor provided her with the information and raw materials required for her plan. It was the best she could come up with, but had far fewer safety nets than she had wished for.
As the first sun was rising in the south, a hard knock was heard from the front door. It was sooner than they hoped, but at least most of the preparations were ready. With the smell of freshly baked biscuits on the air and a last tight hug, Eleanor went to the door. Ahri knew she shouldn't, but she stayed hidden to listen, ready to leave through the back door if things escalated.
"Lady Eleanor, we came in search of your daughter."
She couldn't see them properly, but through the small holes in the climbing hydrangea that surrounded the walls of the house, she was able to identify four knights of the Faith. Four. For a seventeen-year-old girl. That meant they had no plans to let her live, but also that the church was poorly guarded.
"My daughter never came home last night, gentlemen. I'm worried about her. Carlos, did that toothache improved with the medicine I gave you?"
Eleanor was a smart woman, and the man suddenly felt awfully uncomfortable for being so inquisitive with someone who treated his pain not a week before. Not only that, but Ahri could also see the questioning stares shot by his fellow soldiers.
The irony was that most of them had at least once came by the shop – in person or through their wives and daughters – to request the assistance of actual medicine. Prayer never healed stomachaches.
"It's much better, Lady Eleanor. I appreciate your help. But we still need to search the house for the girl."
Eleanor clicked her tongue, something few people dared to do to men of the Faith.
"You don't believe my word, Carlos? What has she done anyway, to deserve such a visit in this ungodly hour?"
"That is none of your business, witch!" Another man, one she didn't recognize, interfered. That was her cue to leave. Nothing good could come from a man who called a healer, a witch. Ahri left through the backdoor, minding the sounds of her escape, and marched back to St. Hollots.
The first round of prayers would begin soon, right before the second sunrise. The knights were positioned as usual, and she noticed how their stare stretched on blond girls coming in with their families.
She adjusted the patches on her face, hoping it was enough to pass as a skin sick. Those poor people were the only ones allowed to hide their scaly rashes from the public, so Ahri would borrow their free pass to get in. Her now brownish hair should be enough to drive the attention away, but a few knights knew her face from her mother's shop and she couldn't risk it. Not with that much at stake.
She reached the first line of knights that were protecting the private parts of the cathedral, and with a crooked voice she barely recognized, offered them the biscuits they had baked during the night.
"For God's servants, my humble offer. May He grace me with divine healing." There was a chuckle stored in her throat after she said the words, but her eyes on the ground helped her stay in line. Thank God for the Faith's poor feeding of their soldiers, for the knights grabbed her offering and ate them right away.
She sat through the first part of the mass, but tuned out of the nonsense coming from the altar. Her focus was solely on the three knights, looking for the first signs of poisoning. Jimsonweed is tricky, because you never know the amount you get from each leave. Eleanor erred on the side of caution, which in this case could mean three men would meet their maker today.
As Bishop Elrod began the third prayers, she noticed two of the three soldiers left to the private parts of the Cathedral. The last one was showing clear signs of alkaloid poisoning. Dilated pupils and that fearful-wonder expression, typical of those who take hallucinogens for the first time. Good for him.
She waited until the end of that section of prayer, for all devotes to rise and walk around, thanking each other. It was the perfect opportunity to slip through the large pillars and head back to the sacristy, now that the knights wouldn't stop her. The place was empty, meaning the two missing soldiers were either passed out or enjoying the dance of the fairies somewhere else.
Finally, she was back at the door to the crypts. She tested one key from the key chain she had stolen, but as she pushed it against the lock, the door gave way. Bad sign, but she was prepared for it. She could hope they didn't lock it because she stole the key, but she knew better than to think they only had one copy. No, someone was down there.
Ahri felt the fear creeping into her soul as she descended once again into the darkness, working her steps to avoid any sound. She reached inside her bag to grab her only hope to overpower another person. Ether. The flask in her left hand and the cloth in her right, just as her mother explained to her.
Her hope to go in and out unseen was shattered as the same large silhouette from the night before welcomed her to the crypts. He was facing the cell and was probably put in charge of making sure the dragon would remain there for the rest of her life.
She wet the cloth with half the content of the flask and prepared for the jump. One, two, three steps and she climbed the back of the bastard just as he began to turn around. Her feet were off the ground, but her right hand reached to cover his face.
Time seemed to slow down for a second, and she thought she was going to make it. Ether on his mouth and nose, exactly as Eleanor instructed. What she failed to mention, however, was the time it took to knock a person down. Especially a huge man that was chosen to take care of a dragon.