Interesting, is the word I would use to describe, Takka. Whilst, Meza falls somewhere between quaint and quintessential.
Fortunately, while strolling through Takka, no one approached us, other than the odd greeting when we passed one of its denizens.
Covered in grime, we roamed the streets until we had to board the last ferry back to Meza.
The general mood was pensive. Mason didn't say much for the rest of the day, while Graham chattered continuously about the architecture, politics, economic implications, and the treasury which apparently housed an extensive collection of jewellery worth more than one could spend in ten lifetimes. A thief will always be a thief no matter how you dress him.
" So," Mason sighed, " How did you find Takka?" He asks with a glint of mischief in his eyes. The reason behind that question was the countless times Graham has blabbed about how much I would love it, and finally move there.
" Different, " I decide for a diplomatic answer, and leave it at that. It was different alright. But I won't packing any time soon to move there, that's for sure.
" Excellent news," He says giving my hand a squeeze that is tucked in tight against his chest.
We disembark the boat in a flurry, happy to be back in Meza. Less pretentious, more to my liking.
The sun is rapidly sinking towards the horizon, and I was ready to wash Takka grime off my skin, and hopefully out of my memory.
Mason stiffening at my side, drags me back from my mindless musings only to find a very grubby-looking man approaching us from the opposite side of the lake.
Shaggy, greasy hair, that hasn't been washed in weeks maybe months. Tattered grey winter coat, a wild look in his glassy eyes, and a pair of boots that have definitely seen better days. The greyish complexion of his skin had an arresting effect on me, just as much as the grim set of his mouth.
Graham was the first to react, as he lowered on his heels to tie his shoelaces that didn't need tying but to covertly pull a dagger out of his boot. Mason was the only one that showed no reaction, while I waited for the man to make the wrong move. He might've had a particularly bad day.
That theory was blown away once the man slowed his steps and raised his hands in surrender, to show that he has no concealed weapons.
Slowly his hand dragged on the side of the coat to reveal an equally tattered shirt, and a few weeping wounds.
" You've been following us," Mason broke the stifling silence in which we are basking at the moment. All day, he eyed the crowd, brooding. Not a squeak, unless I addressed him in particular. He'd been on edge.
The man nods, lips tight, his eyes bouncing between the three of us, like a wounded animal.
" What do you want?" Mason carries on with the questions. The man swallows and grunts something, that sounds like a word, from the back of his throat. I'm no ventriloquist, but it sounded like a word.
" Show me your tongue," I had to know for sure if I was right. When the man opens his mouth, blood and saliva dribble down his chin, and throat, soaking his shirt. No speaking then.
" Can you write?" Closing his mouth, he nods and swallows the blood pooling in his mouth. Someone had done that to him and I have a pretty good idea who that might be.
" Alright. Follow us," Graham says as he begins to move his feet, ahead of us.
When I open my mouth to argue, Graham raises his hand to silence me. I've known him for quite some time but, I've never seen him quite so blunt, and unapproachable.
So, I resolved that I would keep my mouth shut and wait to see what happens next. Whatever the man wants, I need to know.
We take to a small narrow alley, that leads to a barrack on the verge of collapsing.
Once Graham opens the door, we all file inside in obstinate silence, with our eyes on the man.
" I think you two should go. His wounds need to be treated, first. He will need some food and rest before you start laying it thick on him," Graham pulls out medical supplies from a cupboard and begins to spread them on the table.
I don't know what made him think that we could just go and have a nice carefree night, while he took care of the man that might possibly hold some answers. Answers that we desperately need.
We are at a disadvantage where Micah is concerned. We know very little about him while he knows everything about us.
" I don't think so," Mason is the one to answer, tucking his hands into his pockets, eyeing the man curiously.
" You are not a V'asay," Mason says as he begins to circle the man, while Graham gets on with patching him as best as he can.
Being a part of the underworld of illegal dealings made you a savvy survivor.
The man shook his head, ever so slightly. Unsurprisingly, the man is aware of the existence of V'asay. So, I guess we are on the right track, then.
Taking a seat on a rundown chair that wobbles left and right, I watch. He must be a member of the coven. An apprentice, my best guess.
For the time being, I decide not to share my thoughts on the matter. Mason studies the man with keen interest, unable to stay still.
A habit of his when he feels nervous, one that rarely pushes its way to the surface. No point lying, I'm pretty nervous too. And extremely dirty. But at this point, I was dying to hear what he had to say. Or read.
No tongue.
Mason prowles, while I fidget in that damn chair, and wobble, impatiently waiting for Graham to treat his wounds.
The man in question seems less terrified with each passing minute despite the increasing tension in the room. Either he is relaxing, or on the verge of passing out due to blood loss.
It turns out that it is latter, when the man just flops, listlessly on the makeshift bed while Graham is busy cleaning the gaping wound in his stomach.
We look at each other and sigh," Damn it," Mason curses running his hands through his dishevelled locks.
A few more unsavoury curses later, once Mason has calmed down," Will he survive?" He asks, closing the distance between him and the bed to check his pulse.
" We will find out tomorrow. If and when he wakes up. I need to finish cleaning his wound and stop the bleeding. I'm slightly concerned that this might be a trap," Graham says looking between Mason and I.
" You should go back to Morston, " Nodding, I stand up while Mason gives me an apologetic look. It's not his fault. Nowhere is safe for me.
I can run however fast and far I'd like, but he will find me.
" We will leave tonight," I make my way to give Graham a hug which is not returned because he is covered in blood," I'll give you and your new friend some time, before I come back. Thank you for everything," I squeeze past the lump in my throat.
Nodding," Anytime. You know I'm always here for you, even if it's just to make you miserable," He gives me a wry smile, and resumes patching up the man on the bed.
" I'll take Lily home. And I'll be back," Mason grabs my hand and begins to drag me away. Eventually, my feet begin to move reluctantly while I keep my eyes on the man for as long as I can.
He feels important. My instincts might have failed me once or twice, but now it doesn't feel like one of those.
Even if it's a trap. He may be able to tell us something. Anything.