"Keep up." Cyril said over his shoulder.

The faint glow of gas lamps illuminated the empty street. They left the mechanic's yard, heading across the road. Clara held the little girl's hand, trying not to lose Cyril in the gloom.

I was hoping to be back by this time. Cyril thought.

He crossed the street and stopped at the gate of a high fence. Among all of the houses around this seemed to be the most rich.

"Owner, open up! I know you're not sleeping!"

That damn explosion scared everyone in the neighborhood. He added to himself.

He kept knocking until he saw a light through a crack in the fence. The owner left the house to open the gate. Was he going to turn away the intruders, or was he going to smile warmly? Cyril didn't worry about it.

If necessary, I will enter the yard without invitation.

Cyril could have acted like a true Gypsy and just stolen a horse, but the problem was…

I don't know how to harness a cart.

"Stop knocking." A grumpy voice croaked, and the light began to play near the gate.

Clara and the girl had just caught up with Cyril. They stopped in the middle of the road when the girl started crying, and Clara tried to calm her down. Lost in his own thoughts, Cyril ignored them. Now, as they came closer, a knock on the gate made the girl cover her ears.

"Cyril, please don't knock." Clara said from behind him. "Alice gets scared."

Cyril didn't say anything, but he stopped knocking, and the owner of the house just came closer to open a small window in the wide gate.

"What do you want?" The owner said.

The owner held an oil lamp in his hand, which shone through the window on his sullen face and the tired face of the stranger.

"We need a horse. A carriage would be perfect." Cyril replied quite calmly.

He was really tired after a long day. First the disappointment in the forest, then the involuntary death of three men and an old woman in the bathhouse. Of course, the finds in Lady Oink's trunk could compensate for the stress, and the personal elemental promised to be a good helper, but an hour's walk around the city and the death of the mechanic finally finished him.

"In the name of Fate." Cyril added.

He hoped that the trick would work, but either his voice was too weak to convince the bearded man at the window, or the local people were hard-core. In any case, he wasn't happy with the answer.

"What fate?" The owner said. "Do you think I'm a fool? Show me you sign."

Oh, fuck. Cyril sighed.

"Alright." He shook his head. "Would that sign satisfy you enough?"

Cyril turned to Clara and took a bag of coins from the basket in her hand.

Thanks to the old woman for the inheritance. He thought wearily, took out a gold coin and handed it to the man through the window.

The owner chuckled, bit the coin, and nodded in agreement.

"It's a fate I like."

The window slammed shut and the frowning face disappeared.

"Where did he go?" Clara asked.

"Harness." Cyril said.

There was a noise outside the gate, a heavy door creaked, a large bolt slammed, and a muffled clang of metal touched their ears. The horse snorted. Cyril turned to the little girl.

"Alice, you're coming with us."

The girl nodded, and Cyril looked at Clara with satisfaction. She looked at him with eyes full of guilt and adoration. She agreed to serve him, despite his obvious rudeness. He yelled at her, humiliated her, but she stayed close.

Why? He couldn't understand. Why is she so dog-loyal?

For the past few days, Cyril had seen only death around him. First the death of his wife and son, then thieves in the alley, bears, people.

I remember the feeling when I killed the bear. Cyril thought. If I let it overwhelm me, even these two might die.

Cyril realized that he didn't want any more deaths.

Except my own. He nodded and looked up.

"I lost my temper in the hangar." He said, looking at Clara again. "If it wasn't your fault that we got lost, I might have saved him in time. I don't know how, but I could. On the other hand, I allowed myself to be led through the city, which means it's my fault also. Anyway, if you want to stay with me, remember. I say, you listen. No compromise."

The pain of losing his family has not disappeared. But Cyril's heart felt lighter at that moment.

"Forgive me." Clara whispered.

"You're sleeping with me tonight. We'll see about it later."

Clara nodded in agreement. She looked at Cyril and couldn't understand how a monster and a caring man could fit in one person. She saw how he hesitated, but still accepted the orphan. Of course, the answer was obvious to her. Clara even allowed herself to imagine them raising Alice together.

There was a clatter of hooves, the creak of wheels, and the clank of a harness. The light of the lantern illuminated the cracks in the gate, the heavy bolt slid back, and the gap in the gate began to widen. Cyril stood aside, allowing the cart drawn by a young stallion to pull out of the gate.

The owner, holding the horse by the bridle with one hand, shone the other on the stranger and the young woman with the girl behind him.

"I won't ask questions." He said in a hoarse voice. "As my late father used to say, if you know less you sleep better."

"Thank you." Cyril said.

"Get in the cart and tell me where to go. You didn't think of buying a horse for one gold piece, did you?"

Hell, I don't know the city at all. Cyril said, shaking his head.

He turned to Clara.

"Where are the baths?"

"The Butcher district, near the seat of the Clean Heel clan." Clara replied.

"I'll show you the way as we get there." Cyril said, when he turned to the owner. "Take us there, while I'm sleeping."

He climbed into the cart, settled in the soft straw in the corner, and began to snore loudly. The owner of the cart only grunted to himself and helped a girl and a little girl into the cart.

"Damn rich people." He growled, grabbing the reins. "A mad mechanic is a problem. Now I have to work as a night cab driver."

When the explosion and people's screams were heard, he did not leave the house like several other neighbors. Preferring silence, he cursed the hectic mechanic, and would probably have been glad to learn that the madman had died of his own inventions.

He touched the reins, and the young horse stamped on the hard-packed ground.

"I have to work at the forge in the morning, and I'm driving this nobles around here." He continued to grumble.

However, the gold coin in his bosom warmed his soul. He would have had to work at the forge for a week for that kind of money.

A couple of hours later, they entered the Butcher district, and, stopping near the baths, the man pushed the stranger.

"Lead the way."

Cyril rubbed his eyes, peering into the bearded face, then looked at Clara with the sleeping girl in her arms and glanced over the side of the cart. Faint lights illuminated familiar places.

"I was hoping again that it was a dream. We're going straight that way. After a crossroad, there will be a tavern on the left."

Cyril fell asleep again.