“You’ll probably be disappointed. It’s not much of a tale.”
“Your reluctance to tell me only heightens my anticipation. It must involve a girl.”
Baylen snorted.
Paedrin lowered his voice. “I hit the mark then. Tell me. There is nowhere else we are going to go.”
“I’ll preface it by saying that I was very young . . .”
“And she was higher than your station. Let me guess . . . the daughter of a—”
“Baker. Yes, the daughter of a baker.” Baylen’s voice was very low. “Not nobility, surely. I was one of the many urchins who roamed the streets. But there was this baker’s shop. We would all smell it when we passed by. I could see her in the window. She was a tiny thing . . . probably six.”
“Six?”
“I was eight. Don’t let your imagination run wild.”
“I’m sorry. Go on.”
“She had long blond hair full of curls. She always had a serious look on her face. Aeduan girl . . . very pretty. She was the pride of the baker. You could see it in his eyes.” His voice was still low, but Paedrin could hear the memories seeping into the telling. “I was just a child, but I was hungry. Not just for the bread. I hungered for what she had. A family. I just wanted to be inside that bakery. I daydreamed that when I got older, I would carry sacks of flour for the family. I would sweep the stoop. I just wanted to be part of it, in some small way. I don’t think that little girl ever noticed me staring through the window.” His voice trailed off.
“The leader of my little band of urchins . . . he was a rough fellow from Stonehollow. His name was Drew. He was big . . . bigger than me though I was still stout for my age. I think he saw me looking in that window, over and over. He had a bit of cruelty to him, let’s say. One stormy day, when we were hungry and hadn’t found anything we could trade for bread, he suggested we rob that bakery.” He sighed heavily. “We had done that now and then, when we were desperate to eat. But I couldn’t stomach it. Not that bakery. Not where the little girl lived. To them, it was just another bullying. But I think Drew knew how I felt—at some level. He told me to do it.”
Paedrin inhaled deeply. “I’m waiting for the part when Aboujaoude comes. This is even more interesting without him so far. What did you do?”
“I said no. I couldn’t bring myself to injure that family, to taint what I saw behind the window glass. Drew was four years older than me. The others were on his side. I knew I wouldn’t be able to win that fight. Drew knew it too. Let’s just say that before I was on the ground being kicked in the street, I had broken one of Drew’s teeth, knocked two others into the mud, and almost had my fourth before one of them hit my head. I just remember splashing in that puddle of mud while they were kicking me. It didn’t even really hurt. I remember being so, so tired and wanting to sleep. That’s when Aboujaoude found me.” There was a grim chuckle. “I believe he dislocated Drew’s shoulder. Something about pain being a teacher. Then he cleaned me up and helped me to one of the Rike’s orphanages, where I learned to read, to watch, and to fight.”
Baylen chuffed to himself. “I’ve never told anyone that story before. Now, I know what you’re going to ask. Did I ever go back and meet that girl in the bakery. Yes. Her name is Marae and she runs the bakery herself now. Her father is a bit old, but he still helps out. Her husband’s name is Drew.”
Paedrin started. “Really?”
A chuckle sounded. “I made that part up. Sorry. She is married, and I don’t know her husband’s name. I don’t really care what it is. I buy my bread from that bakery. She smiles at me when I come in, and I always buy the biggest loaves and pay a little extra. Before I left Kenatos to hunt you and Hettie in Lydi, I bought one last loaf. She had a little baby girl in her arms and introduced me to her. I knew that I would never be going back to Kenatos again. But if anything I do can help stop the Plague from returning . . . if that little baby can grow up in a world where there is no Plague . . . well, I’ll take that instead of gold any day.”
“So you never told her how you felt?” Paedrin asked, his emotions struck by the story he had heard.
“Of course not,” Baylen replied. His voice pitched even lower. “For the same reason Khiara doesn’t utter a word about her feelings for Aran. Marae’s happiness is worth more to me than my own.”
Paedrin could see that Baylen truly had observed his companions. He had been watching them all, and Paedrin wondered—a bit uncomfortably—what Baylen had concluded about Hettie and him.
“So it’s not just about helping out Tyrus and a debt owed to a Bhikhu.”