Cupela
Year 1348 (Thirty Years Prior to Present Day)
Two days had passed and still Enfildio had not returned. When the first day came and went, and their employer had not brought the unguent he claimed would help Piroska, Cupela had defended him against the other herbalists’ accusations. He had forgotten. He became distracted. He was looking for a replacement for the burned woman. To all of this speculation, Cupela had insisted Enfildio simply needed more time. Perhaps he had to travel further away than they had anticipated. Now, she was beginning to doubt him herself. She would not say it aloud, however. Too easy for Hrent to mock her, or Ubul to shake his head.
Jezmavalin had shown more compassion than Cupela had believed she was capable of. Perhaps the beautiful young woman felt pity for Piroska. The burned woman had never been attractive, but there was little doubt that she would be scarred for life now. Even if Enfildio could procure something which would aid in her healing, she would never look the same. Was the incident a reminder to Jezmavalin of how lucky she was to have been blessed with physical beauty? Or had Cupela simply misjudged the woman?
Sarah had stayed hidden in her living chamber, at least while the others were awake. No work had been done, save for the dismantling and removal of a few pieces of furniture which were burned beyond repair. Once Cupela had begun to sweep the area, but Ubul had told her to stop and wait for Enfildio. “If he returns without the object he promised, he can clean the mess himself.” After a moment of hesitation, she found herself inclined to agree with the sentiment.
Cupela found Piroska still asleep in her bed, the torch unlit, more out of the herbalists’ fear of seeing the burn damage than any other, more compassionate reason. The scarred woman had not been awake for more than a few bells, and during that time she had done nothing but mutter to herself. Cupela had heard her mention a name over and over again which sounded as though it began with an H, though it was difficult to make out. Gods, I hope she is not having nightmares about that pathetic little man. She has been through enough; let sleep be her haven.
She reapplied bandages and sat next to her for a time, not sure of the appropriate response to the tragedy. Eventually her compassion lost out against the woman’s anguished noises.
“I am through with waiting,” Ubul said as Cupela emerged from Piroska’s room.
“What else can we do?” she said without thinking.
“We can take her to a hospital. We should have done that two days ago. Instead, we waited for the most selfish man in the world to fulfill a promise he likely never intended to keep.”
“He never said how long it would take.”
“Why would that be? Perhaps because we never would have agreed if we knew the answer was one month.”
To that, Cupela nothing to say. She looked over at Jezmavalin, who was leaning against a wall, as usual. I cannot recall ever seeing her stand completely upright, as if it were too much effort, or she expected the world to always support her.
“Yes?” Jezmavalin asked.
“Nothing.”
“Then quit staring at me.”
“I always knew she fancied you,” Hrent said from behind Cupela.
Jezmavalin faked a laugh. “Projecting much, Hrent?”
“Shut up, both of you!” Cupela yelled. “Why must you always try your best to make things worse than they already are?”
“There is only one person to blame for all of this,” Ubul said. “Enfildio. He created these conditions in which we have been forced to work. It is no surprise that we are at each other’s throats when we have been locked up together for so long, and then when we see one of our companions gravely injured, our fearless leader practically abandons her.”
Cupela and the others were silent, contemplating the veracity of Ubul’s claim. She did not want to admit Ubul could be correct. Her defense of her idol was beginning to wear her down, yet she did not want to fall into the depthless pit of doubting all that held her together.
“None of this is helping,” she said. “I do not know what can be done for Piroska at this point, but we need to take her to the hospital.”
“No,” Jezmavalin said. Do that and you risk voiding our contracts. I did not stay cooped up her for the past two years only to miss out on my one chance at immortality.”
“Agreed,” Hrent said.
“Finally, something we are united on,” Ubul added.
Cupela had started to shake with frustration. “Enfildio will understand the necessity of the situation.”
Ubul shook his head. “No, he will not. He is a callous bastard.”
“I cannot get her to a hospital on my own, but I can gather bandages and ointments. We have to do something.”
“You’re the only one who is permitted to leave,” Jezmavalin said. “You might as well.”
“And if you come across Enfildio, I hope he is dead,” Ubul said. “For his sake.”
It was midday, it turned out. When Cupela arrived in the city proper, she saw that the streets were bustling with merchants and shoppers. She walked past them while keeping her eyes open for something which might aid Piroska, as if she could possibly find such a thing among vegetables, grains, and cloths. Her intended destination was a physician’s establishment located in the center of the Topaz district. She had no coin, and had therefore taken sleeping and pain killing tonics with her in the hope that she could exchange them for the materials she needed.
As she walked among people who lived above ground, men and women who lived with their families, developed relationships, had opportunities for adventures, and were able to experience all that made life worth living, she realized how envious of them she had become. Perhaps the others have the right of it. I have always believed Enfildio saved me from a life of poverty, but what were his true intentions? Just how much does he care about me? If it had been me in that fire, what would he have done? Where in the world is he?
She looked up to see she was directly in front of The Roots. She stared at the building, as she always did, pondering the range of machinations which were underway within, and the individuals who were pulling strings in secret. Men such as Finder, who Enfildio said could locate anything, and anyone…
He opened the door, as she knew he would, and looked her over, his face unreadable, his demeanor as enigmatic as ever. “Come in,” he said.
She stepped out of the sun and into the shadows of The Roots. Finder stood a few paces away, patiently waiting for her to explain the purpose of her visit. For the first time, she took a good look at the man. He was of average height, stocky, and nearly bald. His nose was bulbous, his neck padded with fat. In all, an unattractive man. Yet, one felt diminished in his presence, as though one continued to live only because he allowed it, the feeling more than a little unsettling.
“I need your assistance,” she said.
An eyebrow may have raised slightly, though it was hard to discern in the shadows. “You are not here to see one of our many clients?”
“Not today. Today, I am looking for someone.”
“Ah,” he said. “Well then, let us first find a room, and then we will speak on finding this person.”
They passed the room where Marshaw often sat, the man looking up as they walked by. Cupela attempted to look cheerful as she followed Finder, though she doubted her efficacy. They entered a room on the left which she had never entered before, but found that it looked nearly identical to all the others. Finder gestured for her to close the door, and then he sat.
“You know services at The Roots are not cheap, mine most of all.”
“I understand,” she said.
“Who do you wish for me to find?”
She swallowed, and pushed aside the doubt, not wanting to appear weak in front of this man. “Enfildio. He has been gone for two days. He went looking for a healing unguent. That is all I know.”
“There is nothing else you can tell me about this situation?”
“There is not.”
“I will gladly take your money, but in the interest of transparency, something which is important in specific cases, I must tell you I am not certain I will be able to find Enfildio. He is an incredibly private man, as are most of our clients.”
“What is the cost?”
“What are the terms of the deal?”
“I would like you to find him before I do.”
“I see. Then it will be one thousand jewels a day.”
“I do not have that much coin.”
“Then I cannot accept the contract.”
Bargaining would not work, she well knew. Finder said nothing more, and Cupela simply bowed her head and exited the room feeling defeated and useless.
On her way out, she passed by Marshaw’s room again. This time, the man signaled for her to enter. She looked back at Finder, who gave no reaction. “I’ll only be a moment,” she said before walking to Marshaw.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I… am looking for someone.”
“Enfildio gives you all sorts of interesting tasks.”
When she did not speak, it was clear her face had given her away. “He’s missing?” Marshaw asked.
“I only know that he should have returned by now. He is likely fine, and only involved in a matter which requires his attention, but I cannot be too safe. I owe him everything, as you know.”
“If I hear anything, I will send word to-”
“I will come to you. Will you be here?”
“I am most days.”
“I need your help Marshaw, but I have no coin.”
“I know what Enfildio means to you, Cupela. I will use all my resources to find him, at no cost to you.”
“How can I accept this offer?”
“As a friend.”
But I have no friends, she thought. Though perhaps I do in this man who has helped me and my family so.
“Thank you, Marshaw. This means the world to me. I will meet you here again tomorrow, and everyday thereafter until he returns.”
“He will return, Cupela. I am sure of it. He is a most resourceful man. In the meantime, I will be here. I promise.”
She left The Roots wracked by guilt. Her actions would have been in direct defiance of Enfildio’s orders, had he felt the need to give any. He trusted her to follow directions, and never doubted that she would be loyal. Then again, there was a chance he had been injured or worse. The human mind’s ability to justify any action is truly terrifying. No matter what course my mind takes, I have a justification waiting for it. Does that mean I would be able to rationalize a heinous act such as murder? I hope not, but I fear that I would find a way even for that.
The physician was eager to make the exchange, which made Cupela slightly concerned that she had given up far more in value than she received in return. She had underplayed the extent of the burn damage she wished to cure however, not wanting to raise suspicions.
When she arrived back at the laboratory, she found Hrent and Jezmavalin sitting on stools in the main workspace, their backs to each other on opposite ends of the room. “I found some materials to help Piroska,” she said.
Both of the herbalists turned to her, but neither spoke. She could tell from their dispositions that another argument had just finished. It was good that they were silent now, as she was uneager to hear about whatever foolishness they were bickering over this time. “Well, I will see to Piroska then.”
She opened the door to the woman’s room, expecting to see Ubul sitting by the bed. Instead, Piroska was alone, still sleeping. Cupela applied the ointment as best as she could and wrapped Piroska in new bandages. Her skin had become overly dry and hard, a cause for concern and a sign that she had been neglected in Cupela’s absence. She finished her work and went to find Ubul to ask him why no one had looked after their companion.
When she opened the door to his room and found it empty, Cupela felt a sense of dread. “Where is he?” she asked as she closed the door and faced the others.
Jezmavalin gave an exaggerated shrug and leaned back against a table. Hrent snorted derisively. “He would not,” Cupela said.
“He would,” Hrent replied after an extended silence.
“If Enfildio finds out…”
“He won’t,” Hrent said. “Unless someone were to tell him.”
“What does he intend to achieve?”
“He said he would track him down and see what was so important that he left Piroska to melt away to nothing.”
“How will he possibly find him?”
Hrent laughed. “You know Jezmavalin has left before. And with Enfildio. She told him some of the places he frequents.”
To that, Jezmavalin said nothing, her gaze remaining on an indeterminable point.
“If nothing else, Ubul is resourceful,” Hrent continued. “He will find him.”
“And when he does?” Cupela asked, her voice quavering.
“He will learn what the old man is hiding. Don’t even attempt to deny that he has secrets he refuses to share with us.”
She did not. She could not.
My world is unraveling. Where are you, Enfildio?