Chapter 9: The Deal at the Bone Counter
228 Words
The Sunken District was a mess of flooded basements and sagging timber where the city’s plumbing had failed decades ago. They reached a door marked with a bleached skull of a dog, its teeth yellowed by time.
Inside, the air was heavy with the smell of drying meat—rat, dog, and things Elara didn't want to name. The Mouth sat behind a counter made of frozen whalebone, the ivory yellowed and cracked. He didn't have eyes—just two polished pieces of obsidian set into his skull that reflected the flickering tallow candles.
"Heart-Pulse," Elara said, dropping a small, heavy pouch of Adrenaline-Dust on the bone counter. It landed with a dull thud.
The Mouth leaned forward, his nostrils flaring. He didn't need eyes to see the heat coming off Julian; he could smell the ozone. "You brought a sun into my cellar, Weaver. I can feel the Prince’s marrow vibrating from here. It’s a dangerous thing to carry a star in a silk cloak. The Silent Ones will track that heat like blood in the water."
"The root, Mouth," Elara repeated, her hand tightening on the hilt of her knife until her knuckles turned white. "I don't have time for the poetry of the Gutter. Give us the root or I’ll see how many gears are actually inside that head of yours."
- Writer
