33. Fault

33. Fault

Flint woke some time later in a great deal of pain. Vesper convinced Archibald to sell her some basic medications and other treatments. These, at least, they could afford.

After Vesper had spoken with Archibald a little longer, further convincing him of their intent and eventual capability to pay him back, she picked up her brother, and the three of them left the apothecary's shop.

It was up to fate whether or not he turned them in.

"Do you really think he won't?" Morgana asked.

Vesper wore a dark expression as she carried Flint. The boy had fallen back into unconsciousness, though more of a recovery deep-sleep than from pure injury, she thought. Vesper hadn't wanted to leave him at the apothecary's—she didn't trust Archibald for obvious reasons.

"He needs the money," Vesper said. "I'm sure about that. Only explanation for how reluctant he was, I don't care how vile of a creature he is. So, long as we're sending him a steady stream of coin, I think he will." She grimaced. "In fact, the real problem, I figure, is after we've given him a decent amount—especially when we're close to finishing. Bet he takes his revenge then. But not before."

That wasn't all that reassuring. It was something, at least.

"But we'll be in a better position when that day comes," Vesper said with a sigh. "Can make plans." She sounded a bone-deep exhausted that Morgana sympathized with. "Problems for later," she muttered.

They drew looks walking through town, Vesper carrying an injured man in her arms, but nobody stopped them. The trip to Rune's guild was silent, with both of them stewing in their thoughts.

Back at the guild, Rune's chipper greeting morphed into horror. They explained what had happened, omitting the threats of murder and their acquired debt, and Rune sensed they weren't much in the mood for discussion: she hovered as Vesper laid Flint into bed and checked on his wounds, then left when Vesper politely ushered her out. Gabbron stopped by to leave crystals next to Flint's bed, weak strength, vitality, and stamina effects. He was unsure how much they would help with injuries, especially Flint's, but they wouldn't hurt, and weren't in use anyway.

Soon enough, it was just the three of them in Flint's room, the boy unconscious, Vesper sitting at the foot of his bed, and Morgana standing.

They were silent for a while.

"How's your head?" Vesper asked.

Morgana's hand went up to brush against the bandage hastily applied to the back of her skull. It had to look ridiculous, hair clinging to and around it sloppily. The adhesive was water soluble, but only stubbornly so. It ought not to be too much of a nightmare to extract, but it would be somewhat of a pain.

"Oh," she said. "Um, good. Hurts a bit." She accidentally emphasized the point by wincing when she pressed against the bandage. "I'm fine, though."

"Sorry I didn't check in on you." Now that they'd entered the moment of calm succeeding the storm, Vesper was growing more visibly exhausted by the moment. "I know other stuff was going on, but you were hurt too. Should've."

"That's—understandable. I mean, I was hurt, but nothing like Flint. You didn't have time to." She'd been able to stand, move around, and speak clearly: Vesper had inferred that her situation wasn't remotely comparable to her brother's.

And besides, he was her brother. She and Vesper had only known each other for less than a week.

"Still," Vesper grunted. "Head injuries are no joke. You sure you're good?"

"Bandage took care of it." Even the lower-tier ones they'd bought were fairly effective when applied immediately. She might have a lingering headache or at worst minor concussion symptoms over the following days, but she was in no long-term threat. "So yeah, thanks."

A short silence passed. Vesper sighed and rubbed her face with both hands.

"Did I do the right thing?" she asked.

"As for our reckless behavior," Morgana continued, making sure to emphasize our. "The important part is we learn our lesson. We'll be taking things slower until I'm comfortable our weaknesses have been sealed up. All of them."

"Might not have a choice," Vesper muttered. "We have payments to make, now."

"And he'll have expectations for our current level, which we'll easily make," Morgana reasoned. "We do have an enormous advantage when it comes to swift dungeon clearing compared to average level threes. And when he sees us making consistent, higher-than-expected payments, he'll be even less likely to retaliate. So we'll be fine."

Morgana wasn't sure where the confidence was coming from. Certainly, ten minutes prior, she'd been in a much more tumultuous mood. Maybe because of Vesper's sagging attitude? She'd handled everything up to this point; the least Morgana could do was have some spine when Vesper faltered.

Vesper let out a sigh, and this one was less exhausted, more accepting. "You're right," she said. "Not gonna do anyone any good crying about it. And the worst is over, I guess." She turned and looked at Flint, eyes lingering on his face briefly, before facing back to Morgana. "You should get cleaned up. Check your head. I'm gonna move my stuff in. I'll be looking over him the next—well, however long it takes."

"Do you need help?"

"Probably not," Vesper said. "Apparently his wounds should be sealed up. That stuff the apothecary used was no joke. I'll have to get him clean, but he might be conscious soon enough to handle it himself." She snorted without humor. "Doubt he wants me bathing him, but I might have to. Depends." She waved her hand. "I'll deal with it."

"Alright," Morgana said. There was a brief beat of quiet, before she stood. She really did have to get cleaned up, and check on herself. "Just let me know if you need anything."

Vesper gave a sarcastic, or at least unenthusiastic, thumbs-up.

Morgana left.

***

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Vesper stared down at her brother, studying his pale face.

Whatever Morgana had said, she knew this was her fault. For that matter, it was just another item on the long list of Vesper causing trouble for her brother. She knew it, and he knew it, too. She wondered what he would think of this debacle when he woke. Well, woke and was coherent. He'd been half-conscious once already. That'd been the only reason she felt comfortable leaving Archibald's.

Her thoughts churned over a number of topics. Her brother's health, the obvious. But also Archibald. What she planned to do about that nasty old man, and the enormous leverage he had over them. He could end their lives the moment he felt like it, just by paying a visit to the town guards.

Morgana seemed to be under the impression they would be leaving what happened up to luck. And they might have to. But Vesper sure as hell wasn't going to sit around and twiddle her thumbs. Whether or not Archibald ran straight to the guards as soon as they left—as in, if he was speaking to them now—was out of their hands, but it wasn't like Vesper could sit there and watch him all day, stopping him if he tried. If he did, he did.

In the worst case scenario, she was pretty sure Morgana could fight off whoever came, using those ridiculously strong spells of hers. The element of surprise would help.

Though Vesper wasn't sure how deeply her loyalty extended. Would she fight for Vesper's sake? Or would she explain what had happened and wipe her hands clean of it? She could probably get away with that. It had been Vesper who had threatened the man's life, not her. Not to mention that the secret archmage was a valuable resource in her own right. If she had to, she could reveal what was going on with her, and wiggle out of any kind of legal trouble. She was a person who mattered. Even if no one knew it yet.

Like always, she and Flint were the ones in real trouble. With no leverage on the situation, no final fallbacks or failsafes. Vesper wasn't a super-competent archmage from a secret society. She was a copperless street rat who'd created a mess, one more of a million, and now had to wade through it.

Usually that meant skipping town. Wouldn't work this time around.

So.

She needed to get some insurance.

When night rolled around, she'd be paying the apothecary shop another visit.