No one had died in the fire. One citizen was missing. There were twenty people with injuries ranging from minor to moderate, and four with more severe injuries. Orfeus thought of her burns and shuddered. Four people from her chosen hometown of dyes and tinctures, suffering pain like that with no clever magic in their veins to help them heal. She curled up small under her cloak.

She didn’t sleep, but didn’t move either. She simply laid in a kind of haze, letting the time pass torturously by.

After a time, her stomach roused her, gnawing and empty. This was far from the longest time she’d gone without food, not even close, but she was still recovering. Orfeus lay dully for another while, then shook her head. She sat up slowly, stretching. Sore as an old man and with as little to look forward to.

She wrapped her cloak around her shoulders and stood. She splashed water on her face before she went out so no one would know.

She found the mess by following corridors in order of dark-lit to brighter-lit, finally to one that looked more like a thoroughfare. At the end of that was an open door to what turned out to be a fairly respectable mess. Long rows of tables filled the area, with a kitchen half-enclosed in an alcove. Debris was scattered over the tables, a few plates with crumbs and smears of grease on them attesting to whatever meal she had thankfully missed.

The Shark and Owl were washing dishes, talking quietly to each other. Boarhound sat at the long bar, coat draped over ver shoulders, sipping from something.

Orfeus glanced from the kitchen, where she might be roped into chores, back to Dormarch, and then swung easily into a seat beside vem. As though invited, as though welcome. “What’s a girl got to do to get a trade around here?” she said.

Boarhound lifted ver brows at her. Ve had a homely sort of face, nose crooked and squashed in, as though ve had seen many fights. “If you’ve got aught worth trading,” ve said. “What you after?”

Orfeus scratched the back of her neck and shifted back in her seat, stretching her legs out. “Do you have anything…illicit?”

Dormarch chuckled deep in ver chest. “Me personally, course,” ve said. “Mostly we frown on it.” Ve shrugged, looking into ver tankard thoughtfully. “But whatever helps you get through the day. Sometimes life is hard. Luga knows that.”

Orfeus didn’t have a ready answer to that. She tongued her lip, folding her legs back up under the chair. “I’m merely a wild, reckless hedonist,” she said. She would rather people believe that than think she needed to claw through the day spit and fire and teeth just to go to all the effort of waking up again tomorrow.