Chapter Text
"Alms for the name of Saint Teresa," a beggar called in a voice yett unfogged by drugs and drink that so many turned to after years on the streets. His greying hair was long and shaggy and covered his half-blind eyes.
Most ignored the shapless mass of dirty rags sitting at the feet of the Saint. A few trickled bronze coins into the grimy bowl.
One hard-faced woman stopped to glare at him, and he flinched away, waiting for her boot to make contact with his ribs. Definitely a mercenary or a veteran of war. One eye was gone, cut through and sealed shut Scars riddled her body. A niggle of familiarity tugged at the back of his mind as he looked up into the hook-nosed face.
She did nothing; merely stood there, her one-eyed gaze searching his face.
"Can I do something for you, myser?" he asked, allowing a note of fawning to enter his voice. Sucking up usually didn't hurt.
She twitched at the sound of his voice, and a spasm of anger crossed her face. Before he time to do more than realize his mistake she had him by the hair. He screeched, fumbled to get his feet underneath him.
"I remember you," she snarled. "You made that godsdamned prophecy."
His throat was very dry. Ah. So that was what this was about. His Second Sight as it was politely called, had gotten him in trouble a few times over the years; but never with battle-hardened women out for blood. People turned and looked at the spectacle, but none came to his aid and he supposed he couldn't blame them.
"I don't--I don't even know who you are," he whimpered, rising to the very tips of his toes to try and take the weight off his hair.
She let him fall to the ground. "Why should you?" she growled. "You take people's money and offer them a prophecy in return to dump their lives in the mud."
"I haven't done that in a very long time," he protested, scrabbling backwards like a crab. "I-- The sight is gone."
She scoffed. "Convenient. Now feed me the line about 'you're only the messenger,' "
"If you're going to kill me, can you at least tell me who you are?" he pleaded.
"It wasn't me you spoke to. It was my companion. His name was Matthias, do you remember?"
The beggar shivered. His had been an unhappy fate. "So you're here to kill me?"
"No," she said shortly. "You and your second sight is going to help me save him."