Chapter 24: Ripple Effects

  Seraphina followed Thristle through Port Sallow's labyrinthine streets, maintaining a calculated distance—close enough to intervene if needed, far enough to observe unnoticed. The morning sun cast long shadows between buildings as dock workers began their day, calling to one another as they shifted cargo. She watched Thristle navigate the winding pathways with familiarity, noting how her charge's posture shifted subtly in these surroundings—shoulders tighter, steps quicker, eyes constantly scanning doorways.

  Like prey returning to hunting grounds, Seraphina thought. Or perhaps a hunter who's become the hunted.

  Vesper flowed behind them, keeping to shadows and drainage channels—his mass remarkably adept at appearing to be nothing more than overflow from the city's water systems when he needed to avoid notice. The slime had insisted on coming despite Thristle's protests, refusing to remain on the ship after nearly dissolving part of the pier in his determination to accompany them.

  Now, watching shadows detach briefly from alleyways to track their progress, Seraphina felt vindicated in their caution. Her fingers brushed the concealed blade in her sleeve—a habit born of years serving in environments where danger came disguised in politeness. Her rifle might be back on the ship, but she was never truly unarmed.

  Steam pipes snaked overhead between buildings like metallic vines, occasionally releasing hissing jets that mingled with the salt air. Despite the early hour, Port Sallow felt unnervingly awake, eyes watching from shadows that shouldn't have been deep enough to conceal anyone. Seraphina cataloged each observer—dock worker with too-clean hands, fruit seller whose gaze lingered too long, child messenger who changed direction upon spotting them.

  This place has more currents than the harbor, she noted, carefully adjusting her pace as Thristle rounded a corner.

  The bakery appeared unexpectedly—a cheerful establishment with polished brass fixtures and steam curling from ornate vents. Thristle paused before entering, her hand hovering over the door handle as if gathering courage. Seraphina noted the security measures disguised as decorative elements: reinforced hinges, a locking mechanism far too sophisticated for mere bread, viewing ports concealed within brass rosettes.

  Vesper slid discreetly into a nearby drainage channel, positioning himself beneath the street grates where he could listen while remaining unseen. Seraphina had to admire his adaptability; the slime was learning urban stealth with concerning speed.

  A bell chimed as they entered, mixing with the hiss of pressure valves from a massive oven. The warmth enveloped them immediately, carrying scents of fresh bread and honey that made even Seraphina's disciplined expression soften. Behind the counter, a robust woman looked up from shaping dough, flour dusting her forearms. Recognition flashed across her features.

  "Well, bless my soul!" The baker straightened, wiping her hands on her apron. "If it isn't... miss... ter?" She studied Thristle with unabashed curiosity, taking in the scholarly gentleman's attire. "Thristle, dear. The usual?"

  Seraphina watched Thristle's carefully maintained fa?ade crack—the cultivated accent slipping, shoulders relaxing a fraction. "Mrs. Burodi. I wasn't sure you'd..."

  "Remember? Hard to forget our best customer." The woman smiled warmly. "The usual?"

  Thristle placed several silver coins on the counter—more than necessary, Seraphina noted, for simple pastries. Mrs. Burodi disappeared briefly into a back room, returning with not one but two large bags, plus a smaller one that clinked with the distinctive sound of preserved goods in jars.

  "Here—yesterday's batch too. Been a while since anyone took those." She pushed both bags forward. "And some preserves. Getting harder to keep things fresh lately."

  "That's far too much, even if the crew-" Seraphina observed quietly, calculating the weight against their planned route.

  "Just take the second bag, please," Thristle cut in quickly, already reaching for the packages.

  Seraphina caught the glance exchanged between them—a silent communication that spoke of arrangements beyond mere commerce. She had seen such looks in Lord Blackbriar's household when matters needed handling without official documentation. Interesting.

  As they left the bakery, Vesper rippled beneath the street grate in unmistakable recognition. Thristle paused, casually dropping a small pastry through the grate's opening. The treat disappeared with a satisfied burble.

  They wound through narrower streets, Seraphina carrying one of the bags while maintaining vigilant awareness of their surroundings. The neighborhood gradually changed—buildings showing more wear, fewer steam pipes overhead, more patched windows. Eventually, they reached a larger structure that had once been impressive but now bore the unmistakable signs of reduced circumstances. Paint peeled from ornate moldings, and several windows had been mended with materials that didn't quite match.

  When Thristle knocked, the door was answered by a child no older than ten, whose face brightened immediately.

  "Thristle?" He squinted, then broke into a gap-toothed grin. "It IS you! We thought you weren't coming back!"

  "Hello, Adam," Thristle replied, her smile genuine.

  "This way," the boy said, leading them inside.

  Seraphina evaluated the building's interior—defensible but poorly maintained, multiple escape routes, too many windows for proper security. A makeshift dormitory, perhaps, or—

  More children appeared, drawn by the sound of visitors—thin faces with too-old eyes, watching them with cautious hope. The mystery of the second bag clarified itself as Thristle set her package on a worn table, gesturing for Seraphina to do the same.

  An orphanage, Seraphina realized. And one struggling by the look of it.

  Outside, against the orphanage's garden wall, Vesper had positioned himself strategically beside a defunct fountain. His blue mass was nearly invisible among the overgrown ivy, bearing a remarkable resemblance to stagnant water when he remained still. Only the occasional ripple, when children glanced out the windows, betrayed his vigilant presence.

  An elderly woman entered the kitchen, her face creasing with recognition when she spotted Thristle. "Thank you, dear. Most of our usual supporters have forgotten us lately, and times have been... challenging."

  "We've been renting out rooms to make ends meet," the elderly woman continued, lowering her voice. "Only two halfies sharing a room now. It's all we can manage."

  Seraphina caught the subtle tension in the woman's words.

  "I worry about the children," the woman added, glancing toward the stairs with a conflicted expression. "You know how it is. The halfies... they might do something unpredictable. But they're young girls, so it should be alright." Her voice carried the uncomfortable mix of compassion and wariness that Seraphina had heard countless times from those who offered charity while maintaining their distance.

  "Thristle!" A young voice called from the doorway. "Timmy's sick again. Up in the east room." His face carried the gravity of a battlefield messenger. "The fever's back. Worse than before."

  Thristle's expression shifted instantly, concern replacing her earlier caution. "How long?"

  "Three days," Adam replied, shoving his hands into pockets that had been patched multiple times. "He keeps talking about the fire again."

  Something darkened in Thristle's eyes—a shadow of old guilt that Seraphina had glimpsed before but never so clearly. "I should check on him," she said, already heading for the stairs. She caught Seraphina's look and added, "Just for a moment."

  As Thristle disappeared upstairs, Seraphina remained by the table, observing the children unpacking the bags. Adam lingered nearby, studying her with unnerving directness.

  "She saved Timmy from the fire," he said without preamble, voice quiet enough that only Seraphina could hear. "When that place with all the doctors burned down. Couldn't save his brother though." Hir voice carried that particular wisdom of children who've seen too much. "She's been helping us ever since. Brings medicine sometimes. She's like a big... um, older sister."

  Seraphina maintained her neutral expression, though something tightened in her chest. "She never mentioned..."

  "She wouldn't," the girl said with a shrug. "Says talking about good deeds ruins them. Grandma Coco said that too. But we remember anyway."

  "Hard to forget someone who bought every honey cake in the shop that one time," Mrs. Coco added, having approached silently. Her eyes crinkled with amusement. "Though it's been quite a while since she visited us."

  "Are you a friend of hers?" Adam asked, studying Seraphina's immaculate clothing with undisguised curiosity.

  Through the window, Seraphina noticed a small child crouched by the fountain, staring in fascination at what appeared to be nothing more than discolored stone. The child reached out cautiously, then jerked back with wide-eyed wonder as the "stone" formed a tiny tendril to poke his finger.

  "This is Sera—Miss Dustrose," Thristle corrected quickly as she reappeared, slightly flushed from rushing down the stairs. "She's my... um..."

  "Guard," Seraphina supplied smoothly. "Lord Blackbriar values his ward's safety."

  "Oh?" Mrs. Coco's eyebrows rose slightly. "Moving up in the world, are we? Though I suppose that explains the new look." She gestured at Thristle's gentleman's attire. "Quite different from your apprentice days."

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Seraphina watched Thristle's discomfort with clinical interest. For someone so typically expressive, Thristle became remarkably inscrutable when her past arose.

  "How's Timmy?" the elderly woman asked, changing the subject with practiced grace.

  "The fever's bad," Thristle replied, worry evident in her voice. "That willow bark tea helps, but he needs something stronger." Her fingers tapped against her belt pouches, clearly calculating ingredients and proportions. "The nightmares about the fire are back too."

  Without hesitation, she produced a small vial from an inner pocket. The liquid inside shimmered slightly, Seraphina recognized immediately— Gilded Feverfew extract, purified and stabilized. Even in Lord Blackbriar's well-stocked apothecary, such a preparation would cost quite a sum.

  "This should break the fever completely," Thristle said, handing it to the elderly woman. "Three drops in tea, morning and night. No more, no less."

  The woman's eyes widened as she carefully accepted the vial. "Thristle, we can't possibly repay—"

  "Then don't," Thristle cut her off with an awkward shrug. "It's just gathering dust otherwise."

  Seraphina knew this was a lie. Such a preparation wouldn't "gather dust"—it would remain potent and valuable for years. This was no casual gift, but a significant sacrifice.

  "I'll mix something more for the cough when we get back to the ship," Thristle added, clearly uncomfortable with the attention. "And something for the nightmares."

  "Always the alchemist," Mrs. Burodi said fondly. "Even after everything with that facility."

  Thristle's expression shuttered instantly. "That was a long time ago."

  The facility. The words struck Seraphina with sudden clarity. Lord Blackbriar had mentioned an illegal research operation shut down after a devastating fire—the very facility they were investigating connections to. Thristle hadn't just worked nearby; she'd been involved somehow. And Timmy... a survivor she'd rescued from the flames? The pieces began to align in Seraphina's mind, forming an uncomfortable picture.

  Adam burst back into the kitchen, eyes wide with excitement. "Grandma Coco! The snake-girls are awake! They want breakfast!"

  The elderly woman sighed. "Mind your manners, Adam. They're our guests." She glanced toward the stairs, her voice dropping to ensure the children wouldn't overhear. "Between us, those halfie girls weren't exactly my idea. Their father—the Bulwark's captain—practically ordered me to house them three weeks ago." She sighed. "Seven feet of battle-scarred muscle standing in my doorway, declaring 'They'll stay here until I return.' Not a request."

  "The Regent's Bulwark?" Seraphina confirmed, recalling the heavily armored vessel they'd spotted in the harbor.

  "The very same. Captain Saris himself." A slight shiver ran through the older woman. "Those amber eyes watching your every move like he's calculating exactly how many ways he could end you... terrifying man. But he pays generously, and those girls deserve better than a warship's deck while he handles whatever urgent business called him away."

  "Young lamias with a military captain for a father," Thristle murmured. "That's... unexpected."

  "Nothing ordinary about Saris or his methods," Grandma Coco replied with a small smile. "Should be back within the week, he said. Between us, I'll be rather relieved when he collects them."

  As they prepared to leave, a small commotion erupted in the courtyard—excited children's voices and one sharp gasp from an older caretaker. Thristle bolted to the window, her face paling slightly.

  "Oh no," she muttered, rushing outside.

  Seraphina followed to find several children gathered around the fountain, where Vesper had apparently broken his cover to entertain them. The slime demonstrated his ability to change colors which brought squeals of delight from his audience. Chaos erupted when Grandma Coco spotted the massive blue mass near the children.

  "GET BACK!" she shrieked, but her warning came too late. Three children were already crowded around Vesper, poking him with sticks and squealing with delight when he rippled in response.

  "It MOVES!" a boy of about six exclaimed, jabbing his stick deeper into the slime's surface. Vesper simply absorbed the stick, then pushed it back out, unharmed.

  Thristle burst through the doorway with Seraphina close behind, her face paling at the scene.

  "Vesper!" she hissed. "What are you DOING?"

  A toddler had already planted both hands into Vesper's side, giggling as the slime adjusted his consistency to something firmer beneath the child's touch. Another girl, no older than five, attempted to climb atop him like a strange blue hill.

  "What in heaven's name is that thing?" Grandma Coco demanded, her voice shaking as she tried unsuccessfully to pull the children away. Each one she removed was immediately replaced by two more, drawn to the novelty like moths to flame.

  "He's with me," Thristle said, stepping forward quickly. "And he was SUPPOSED to stay hidden."

  The toddler lost his balance and fell forward, disappearing up to his shoulders in Vesper's mass. Seraphina moved with alarming speed, but before she could reach him, Vesper had already formed a gentle depression that cradled the child, preventing him from sinking further.

  "Squishy!" the toddler declared happily, completely unconcerned by his predicament.

  "Get him out of there!" Grandma Coco cried genuine terror in her voice.

  "Vesper, let him go," Thristle commanded, her tone sharper than usual.

  The slime immediately complied, carefully extricating the toddler and setting him gently on solid ground. The child immediately tried to dive back in, only to be caught by Grandma Coco.

  "Is it dangerous?" she asked, clutching the squirming child while keeping a wary eye on Vesper.

  "Not intentionally," Thristle replied, which did nothing to reassure the caretaker.

  A girl with tangled braids had grabbed a fistful of Vesper's mass and was trying to stuff it into her pocket. "I want some! I want to keep it!"

  "It doesn't work like that," Thristle said, gently prying the girl's fingers open. "He's not... divisible."

  "Is it a pet?" asked Adam, studying Vesper with scientific interest.

  "More like a friend," Thristle answered, watching as Vesper formed small ripples for each child who approached him, carefully modulating his responses based on their age and boldness.

  A boy nodded seriously. "Can it kill people?"

  "Adam!" Grandma Coco scolded, but the damage was done.

  "Can it?" another child echoed enthusiastically. "Does it eat them?"

  "That's enough," Seraphina interjected firmly, moving to stand beside Vesper. "We need to be on our way."

  This announcement triggered immediate protests. Two children threw themselves dramatically across Vesper's surface, while others formed a protective circle around him.

  "You can't take him!" declared a freckled girl who had been quietly observing until now. "He's ours now."

  "I'm afraid that's not how it works," Thristle said, unable to keep the amusement from her voice despite the situation's dangers. "Vesper needs to come with us."

  Vesper had begun gently disentangling himself from the children, forming small tendrils that carefully removed clinging hands and deterred further climbing attempts. His surface rippled with what looked suspiciously like regret as he flowed back to Thristle's side.

  "Will you bring him back?" asked the freckled girl, her expression hopeful.

  Thristle hesitated, looking to Grandma Coco, whose initial terror had mellowed into cautious fascination.

  "If," the elderly woman said slowly, "you can assure me of everyone's safety, perhaps a visit might be arranged. Under strict supervision."

  "I can't promise complete safety," Thristle said honestly. "But I can promise to be careful."

  As they prepared to leave, the children crowded around for reluctant goodbyes.

  "Bye, jelly friend!" a child called, waving his small hand as Vesper began flowing toward the gate. as Vesper flowed toward the gate. The slime formed a tendril and waved, then flowed reluctantly to Thristle's side.

  Back in Port Sallow's winding streets, Seraphina broke the silence that had fallen between them.

  That was reckless," Seraphina said finally, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. "He could have—"

  "I know," Thristle interrupted, her voice unusually firm. "Trust me, I know exactly what he could have done." She glanced at Vesper, who was now flowing passively beside them, giving no indication of the power contained within his gelatinous form. "But he didn't. That has to count for something, doesn't it?"

  Seraphina didn't answer immediately, her expression carefully neutral as she considered the question. "It counts," she acknowledged finally. "But it doesn't eliminate the risk."

  Vesper's surface shifted slightly, forming patterns that suggested he was following their conversation with more understanding than either of them was entirely comfortable acknowledging.

  "Nothing comes without risk," Thristle replied quietly, the words carrying a weight that suggested she wasn't just talking about Vesper anymore.

  ---

  Received: Achievement awarded for reaching #2500 of the Best Rated ranking

  Wooo! We're going a bit slow, but steady.

  The story unfolds slower than I would prefer, but there’s so much I want to fit in!