Wren
Ch. 23
There weren’t many people at the gardens. This wasn’t unusual for a Sunday, however. People often didn’t have any major obligations on Sundays, but they also often didn’t feel like going out. Rich found himself wishing that he didn’t have to be there. He sat himself down on a bench near the entrance. He sat there a while, he was far enough from the river now that he could no longer smell it. I need to put an end to this. I can’t keep going like this. But how? I can’t touch them, not while they have the sword. They’ll always be fast enough to get away while they have it. I don’t think taking them by surprise is an option either, when they can look like anyone.
An old man came and sat next to him, derailing his train of thought.
“Mind if I sit here?” he asked, already seated.
“I do, actually.”
“Good to know the youth still have a sense of humor!” the old man said, without any obvious indication of sarcasm. Rich decided not to press the issue. The two sat on the bench for a few minutes before the man broke the silence.
“So what brings you here today?”
“I wanted to take a tour.”
“Are you interested in plants?”
“Sure.”
“Is there anything you really want to see today?”
“Not really.”
“You know it takes two to carry a conversation.”
“I’m extremely aware.”
“Why won’t you talk to me?”
“I don’t think I need to give a reason.”
“And maybe you don’t, but maybe if you told me I could help you with it.”
“You couldn’t.” Rich stood up and walked away. Even when he didn’t have such a secret to hide, he didn’t enjoy talking to strangers. The fact that he did have a secret made it that much worse. He leaned over the railing to look at one section of the gardens. It had the flag of the city made entirely of blue and yellow daffodils. If Rich had actually been interested in plants, he would have shuddered at the amount of magic that had to go into making that many blue daffodils. Instead he just looked at it, admiring the hours or days that must have gone into arranging them all exactly right.
Maybe that’s what I’ll do, if I make it out of this. I’ll quit drinking, and I’ll work here, arranging daffodils. Rich knew on some level, though, that he was lying to himself. That if he did make it out he’d probably go straight to the Ox to celebrate, and then again the next day, and so on until his liver finally had enough of his shit. But for now, the higher parts of his mind continued with this fantasy, yearning for a day that would never come. All of the daffodils started waving in a sudden strong wind, and Rich was helpless to do anything but admire them.
If this is what plant life in a city is like, I wonder what it’s like in the wilderness. Maybe I’ll travel. I’d like to see a mountain, a canyon. Something other than endless buildings. Even this garden is walled off. You can’t go anywhere here without seeing at least one wall. Maybe that’s what I’ll do. I’ll pack my things, and just head east, and see where it takes me.
This fantasy was interrupted when a tour guide came into earshot leading a group. As soon as Rich looked, he saw the guide had red hair. He wasn’t close enough to see the eyes though, he’d have to get a closer look. He sidled over to the group and tried to blend in. The guide didn’t seem to notice. They continued through the gardens. The guide told them about the various plants the gardens had on display. While Rich was only pretending to listen, he was genuinely enjoying taking in the plants on display. He was particularly fond of magnolia trees. His first kiss with Alex had been under one, and when he saw them he was able to just remember the highs of their relationship, without any of the lows. Then reality came back to him, and he wished he was in the Ox with as much mead as he could stomach. He realized they were nearing the end of the tour, so he made his way to the front of the group to check the guide’s eye color. Blue. So this was probably the target. As the group dissipated at the end of the tour Rich realized he’d need to think of a plan fast. So how do I get this guy alone? He’s a tour guide, so he’s usually around people. I’d try to jump him in the restroom, but I don’t think shape changers have that kind of bodily function. Do they? Brandon would probably know, but I don’t have the time to go ask him, the target might be gone by the time I get back, I don’t know when his shift ends. Maybe closing time is an option. If these things operate exclusively in social situations, then the only time I’m really going to catch one alone is when it’s going from one to another. So I guess I’m here until they close, or at least until he finishes work.
Rich went and sat back on a bench near the exit, making a point not to sit on the one the old man was still occupying.