Seated in the kitchen, folded over, with her elbows resting on the knees, Lysa was attempting to contain her frustration as she watched Ohlara, the wet nurse, trying to feed Ayalal. Two whole days had passed and, for some reason, he had refused to drink the milk.
"Maybe it's some illness". Ohlara would not stop repeating that, irritating Lysa until she could no longer listen to it. "It would be best to take him to a healer, try to figure it out. There may be a knot inside him... or the gods prefer that he does not live.
The teenage girl made a grimace that contorted her face, which was already somewhat contorted on one side. When she was a little girl, before entering the orphanage, a burn had marred her skin from the cheek to the brow and had almost blinded her.
“Maybe it's better. Stay with him a little while, please. I'll talk to Mrs. Drane" she said.
*
She left with hurried steps, heading for a small house two streets away. As she approached, she slowed the pace and frowned slightly, unhappy with what she saw. Six people were waiting at the door of the healer. One of them held a cloth around her hand, drenched in blood that was dripping on the floor; another, wan, was coughing, and the sound of her chest was a warning for Lysa to keep at distance; there was also a woman with a baby on her lap, with despair in her eyes.
"What are we going to do, Ay?" she murmured to the little boy, thinking to herself. Ayalal let out an opinionated low grumble. He had not cried again after that first time, not out of hunger, or to change his swaddling clothes, nothing. Maybe he really had an illness. The baby reached out a hand, seeming to want touch her chin. It was incredible how he still had the strength for it. If she had not eaten for two whole days, she would not move. “You're strong, aren’t you? There’s no way you have a disease…”
She lowered her face. When she felt him touch her scar, she remembered someone who might be able to help them.
Lysa turned around, making Ay mutter another grunt and pick up his arm. She moved away from the most populous part of the city, penetrating into less clear streets, where the illumination was worse. The houses were also less, some of them completely empty, abandoned by those who had not been able to live so long under the mountains. She made her way down a flight of stairs that had been carved into the stone itself. The steps stole her breath with their height, and she entered a tunnel leading into a darker area. The everlasting torches, fastened to the walls, were spaced at too wide intervals, creating shadows of irregular movements. They reminded her of creatures waiting to attack her. She swallowed and move forward, clutching the baby.
Further on, the road came to a crossroads. The tunnel on her left side would lead to the surface, but it was a half-forgotten route that probably only the monks took – it was from there that she had come to the city. In front of her was her destination, following the same pattern of light and shadows; but on her right side, a well of darkness was opened in the wall. She shivered. In the orphanage, stories were told of people who had been dragged by monstrous claws to passages like that, that sometimes the whispers of the dead were heard in the air. She wanted to believe that it were all lies that people told children. Furthermore, regular patrols surveyed the unlit parts of the city to make sure no dangerous creatures lurked there. And there was no official record of disappearances or attacks.
She took a deep breath, held her breath, and ran to the other side. Nothing caught her in the way, no sharp-clawed hand out of the blackness. She sighed, a little relieved, and felt at the same time ridiculous that at that age she still paid attention to the silly stories that were told among children.
She continued her way to the end of the tunnel, where the stone formed a house with a low door. Although there was a window next to it, there was no light coming from inside. Lysa hesitated a moment before knocking. She did not get any response. She knocked again, harder. Nothing.
She cursed, frustrated. She could wait for a bit, but she didn’t know when he would return. Or if he was just inside and didn’t want to open the door. Maybe it would be better come back later.
She turned and suddenly realized that she could not see the tunnel in front of her. A black figure blocked her way. She jumped back, squeezing Ayalal against her with too much force. The baby shrieked low, with the abruptness. For a moment, she thought it was a being of darkness that would kill her. She looked up, peering at a red man's face. His hair was as white as snow, but what most drew attention were the two black horns that grew from the forehead and arched back. He stared at her, with two orbs of an intimidating red. He struck a hoof on the floor, making her tremble.
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