The day wasn’t a total loss, the fish preserved in his pack was proof enough of that. Still, he hadn’t come up with any leads and the list of people who might remember the Crenshaw lineage whittled down to just two. A healer at the Grand Infirmary and a monk of Uphis. He had an offer of help with getting in to the infirmary, a little medical know how and a flash of his battle scars should be enough to pique their curiosity. But that could wait for tomorrow.
Ezra took a quiet joy in the clacking sound his sandals made against the tightly mortared stone bridge over the Aperture. The fifty foot drop into that dark crevice would have given a younger man cause for alarm but Ezra happily ignored it, they were like two ships passing in the dark. After last night's rainfall the morning had started out muggy, damp from the midnight downpour. But, without a single cloud in the sky, you never would have known. The skin of his face tightened as the vibrant sun warmed his cheeks while the cool winter air prevented him from perspiring too much. His first day out of exile and it was thrilling.
As he rounded the north central bridge spanning the crack in the earth, a screech pierced through the shadowed abyss below.
Immediately, Ezra rushed to one side and bent an ear towards the void. The single irksome bleat in a sea of emptiness caused a shudder through his battle torn frame. One echoed at the inkling of what it meant. The color drained from his face as he strained to listen for the next call. But nothing came.
"Jus' a touch of the ol' craze, it's not the time, " he muttered, thinking back to the old sailors and their frequent apocalyptic predictions. The sea could make a man drunk on doom, many simply wanted Dira to take them before the sea did, "pay it no nevermind, jus' the wind a'hollerin'. The time's all wrong."
The tightly packed houses dissolved the closer he drew to the monastic temple in the Northern Quarter. A sea of clay colored bricks trickled into the sun-blemished stone surrounding the monastery, while freshly groomed trees lent the sweet fragrance of molasses to the air outside its many high-arched walkways. Ezra fumbled into a seat at a wooden bench opposite the entrance and set about to eating a bit of his lunch.
Of the two fish he caught that morning, one made for a good trade at a butcher's stall in the Fourth Day Market. A fish had been exchanged for brined meat, a generous amount of salt for preservation of his remaining catch and the crusts of a hunk of day old bread. It was a lunch reserved for one well above his station because the monks doled out food based on social status, something Ezra wasn't too keen to expose. Stuffing a wad of the hardened bread and salted fish meat down his throat, Ezra pulled out a book he had borrowed from Ren's shop to study while he waited for the man who had beaten him.
Practical uses of Emergency First Aid :
Two monks sauntered through the walkway into the head quarters while he waited. Out of his good eye he didn’t recognize either of them. Instead he marveled at the furling robes as they slinked underfoot while the rhythmic clanking sound of their steel blades reminded him of buoys bobbing in the bay. They quickly disappeared into the depths of the living quarters and he let out a sigh. Waiting was the hardest part.
Nighttime, 32nd day of Winter, 511 AV
In the dark the temple of the monks of Uphis cast a vulgar silhouette, a solid pointed spire with torches lining the outer walkway gave the pious building a hellish demeanor. Or at least it appeared that way to the battered old man as he clambered up the rope ladder from his hiding place in the Aperture. The winter months meant a severe decline in Greenwing Flyiers and Dourdem roots but the risk entailed some of the more fearsome encounters that Ezra was all too happy to avoid.
The stake out had so far proven to be a bust, no one came in or out of the monastery matching the description of the monk. He couldn't just go home without being completely certain. Should he get the job at the infirmary this would be the last day to attempt such a thing before he'd be stuck back in civilized life. And with the monks frequently getting injured he was bound to be recognized. He had to make absolutely sure that his secret was safe as the penalty for an exile returning from the Aperture was fatal. He had to be sure, after all what was the point of living if it had to be in fear.
Ezra quietly removed his sandals and tucked them in his pack, fastening it to the highest rung of the rope ladder with a quick slip knot and watched from the shadows as a patrol passed by the entrance. Then, as quietly as he could manage, he motioned towards the light.
