The Price {Completed}

Chapter Thirteen

With the new snow coat, our travel time increased. I felt sorry for the girls, who undoubtedly would stay late and be caught by the slow carriage ride back. They would be arriving home perhaps just in time to turn around and start rehearsals tomorrow morning. Mr. Lennox did not consider parties a legitimate reason for missing a single day of class.

The further we drew from the palace, and the closer we came to the boarding house, the more the night seemed to change around us. Instead of the tense silence of the streets outside of noble's homes, we were met with a hurried and almost frantic energy. Well-dressed men and women, probably merchants and bankers, nearly ran down the road. Almost every grand brick house blazed with candlelight, and through what few windows were not shuttered, the inhabitants were visible as they hauled planks of wood up to nail over the glass. Servants emptied the chamber pots for the night, and rushed back into the house to firmly lock the door behind them.

The activity only grew as we continued. Soon we saw young men in large groups running their hands along the iron fences and taunting frightened bankers as they went by. These young men were not adorned in furs and bowler hats-- they wore faded and patched jackets that didn't look warm enough for even spring. Their skin was dirty and their voices thick with the accent of the tenements. How they managed to come this far into the affluent neighborhood was a mystery. Mounted soldiers normally patrolled the streets to make sure the rioters kept away from the fine people and their fine homes.

A mile or two yet before home, the scene shifted sharply. No more did bankers and merchants walk the streets and their houses glow with lights. In fact, not a single house leaked so much as a candle flame, yet the street was awash in a harsh orange glow.

On the cobblestones in the middle of the road, a massive fire burned. It was a haphazard pile of furniture, wood, and flames, and judging by the broken glass in many of the nearby homes, the fuel was not gotten in any lawful manner.

Around this campfire, men and women danced in rags and all screamed the same thing. May Liberty light our way! I shivered, remembering the words that had first left Karl Matveev's mouth.

A line of soldiers stood like a barrier across the street, blocking the path that eventually led to the palace. Whenever a few of the men and women tried to break past them, the soldiers would beat them back with short clubs.

Our carriage driver slowed and then stopped altogether before he came too close to the soldiers. We were still for a moment, and then the carriage rocked as the driver climbed down.

Thinking perhaps he wanted to ask one of the soldiers if there was another route that was safer, I was surprised when he instead opened the carriage door and sharply motioned us to descend. Mr. Lennox's grasp on his cane tightened and the gaze he directed at the driver was colder than even the inky air outside.

"What is the meaning of this?" Mr. Lennox's voice was dangerously calm.

The driver, not sensing the undercurrent of danger, sighed loudly and repeated his motion of pointing over his shoulder with his thumb.

"Look, either you get out here, or you're coming home with me to Barnes Street," the driver said. "I'm not staying out on these streets any longer."

Barnes Street lay at nearly the other end of the city and would be ridiculous to go to. Not that I thought the carriage driver actually meant his second offer to take us home with him. He wanted us out of his vehicle as soon as possible to get away from the growing pitch of the rioters in the street. His eyes flicked to me and his hand tensed as if he was debating whether it was worth it or not to just haul me out himself and trust that Mr. Lennox would follow.