The silver coins were heavy in the satchel, a dead weight bumping against Elias's hip with every step.
He walked out of the warehouse district, holding Leo's hand tight. The morning air was sharp enough to cut glass. Leo was shivering violently now, his teeth chattering with a sound like dry bones clicking together. The adrenaline that had sustained the boy through the night was gone, leaving only the cold.
Elias did the math in his head as they walked.
He had fifty silver coins. The debt was fifty silver coins.
If he paid Silas every copper, he would save Leo from the gang, but he would be walking a freezing child back to a fireless shack with no food. The "food and lodging" from Master Vane wouldn't start until his first shift tomorrow.
Elias tightened his grip on Leo's hand. He needed a margin.
"Leo," Elias said, leaning down. "When we get to the house, you stay behind me. Do not speak. No matter what the big man says."
Leo nodded, his face buried in his scarf.
They reached the shack just before noon.
Silas was already there. The big enforcer was leaning against the doorframe, whittling a piece of wood with a long knife. He wasn't alone. Two other thugs stood by the woodpile, stomping their feet in the snow.
Silas looked up as Elias approached. He grinned, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"Tick tock, scribe," Silas called out. "I was about to start lighting the kindling."
Elias stopped five paces away. He looked calm, but inside, his body was screaming. The exhaustion from the all-night audit was crashing into him, making his vision swim. He locked his knees to keep from swaying.
"I have the money," Elias said.
Silas straightened up. He looked surprised. He had expected to drag a screaming child away today, not to get paid.
"Fifty silver?" Silas asked, skeptical. "Did you rob a church?"
"I earned it," Elias said. He opened the satchel, letting the dull glint of silver show in the winter light.
The greedy glint appeared in Silas's eyes instantly. He took a step forward, reaching out.
Elias snapped the bag shut and took a step back.
"The receipt first," Elias said.
Silas scoffed. "You think this is a bank? Give me the bag, or I take the kid."
"If you take the kid, you get nothing," Elias said calmly. "I'll throw this bag into the deep snowdrift behind me. You might find half of it before the sun sets. The rest gets buried."
It was a bluff, but a pragmatic one. Silas paused.
"Fine," Silas spat. He pulled a crumpled piece of parchment from his belt. It was a standard debt release form, scrawled in Mik's handwriting before he had been dragged away. "Here."
Elias looked at it. He pulled his own quill and ink vial from his pocket. He uncorked the ink with his teeth.
"Sign it," Elias said, holding out the quill. "Mark it 'Paid in Full'. Date it. And sign your name as witness."
Silas growled, snatched the quill, and scribbled an X and a messy signature. He threw the parchment at Elias's feet.
"Done. Now give me the silver."
Elias picked up the receipt. He checked the ink. It was valid. He tucked it safely into his inner tunic, against his skin.
Then he opened the bag.
He reached in and pulled out a handful of coins. He counted them into Silas's waiting hand. Ten. Twenty. Forty.
Elias stopped at forty-eight.
He looked at the two silver coins remaining in his palm. Then he looked at Silas.
"Forty-eight," Silas said, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble. "The debt is fifty."
"Mik was stealing from your Boss for six months," Elias said quietly.
Silas froze. "What?"
"I exposed him," Elias continued, keeping his voice low so the other thugs wouldn't hear. "But Mik didn't work alone. He needed muscle to intimidate the debtors into paying the extra 'interest' he was pocketing. He needed you."
It was a cold reading. A guess. But in the criminal underworld, trust was rare.
"I didn't know nothing about Mik's skimming," Silas hissed, glancing nervously at his own men.
"I believe you," Elias lied smoothy. "But will your Boss believe you? Or will he wonder why his enforcer didn't notice the accountant buying new boots and drinking imported wine?"
Silas's face went pale.
"I can go to your Boss," Elias said. "I can explain exactly how Mik cooked the books. And I can mention that you were standing right there every time he forged an entry."
Elias held up the two silver coins.
"Or," Elias said, "You take the forty-eight. You tell the Boss I was two silver short, but you beat me up and took what I had. You pay the Boss the full fifty from your own pocket... or you make up the difference with the next poor soul you squeeze."
Elias dropped the last two coins back into his own pocket.
"These two are my commission for keeping my mouth shut."
Silas stared at him. His hand was clenched around the forty-eight silver coins. He was furious, but he was also afraid. If the Boss thought he was skimming with Mik, he was a dead man.
Silas spat on the ground.
"You're a rat, Thorne," Silas whispered. "A filthy rat."
"I am a father," Elias replied coldly. "And the debt is paid."
Silas turned around. "Let's go!" he yelled to his men. "He paid up."
The gang trudged away through the snow. Silas didn't look back.
Elias waited until they were out of sight. Then, his legs finally gave out. He sank to his knees in the snow, the adrenaline draining out of him like water from a cracked jar.
"Father!" Leo cried out, rushing to his side.
Elias held up a hand. "I am fine. Just... dizzy."
He breathed in the cold air, steadying his heart. He felt the parchment against his chest. It was just a piece of paper, but it weighed more than the silver. It was freedom.
He looked at Leo. The boy was shaking, his lips turning blue.
Elias reached into his pocket and pulled out the two silver coins he had gambled his life to keep.
"Come," Elias said, forcing himself to stand. "We are going to the market."
The tailor's stall was a simple canvas tent near the district square, smelling of wet wool and cedar chips.
Elias didn't haggle. He didn't have the energy.
"Something warm," Elias said, pointing to Leo. "And thick."
The tailor looked at the two silver coins Elias placed on the counter. It was a generous amount for children's clothes.
He pulled down a coat made of thick, grey wool. It was lined with rough sheepskin. It was slightly too big for Leo, meant for a boy of eight or nine, but that just meant it would last.
Elias took the coat. He knelt down and wrapped it around Leo.
He buttoned it up to the chin. The collar was high, covering Leo's ears. The sleeves hung over his hands, trapping the warmth inside.
Leo stood there, blinking. He looked like a small, grey bear cub. He touched the soft sheepskin lining with wonder.
"Is it... for me?" Leo asked.
"Yes," Elias said.
"To keep?"
"Forever," Elias said.
Leo looked up at him. His eyes filled with tears. He buried his face in the wool collar and let out a sob—not of fear, but of relief. He was warm. For the first time all winter, the cold couldn't touch him.
Elias adjusted the collar, brushing a snowflake from the boy's hair. He had sold his freedom to Master Vane for five years. He was an indentured servant. He owned nothing but the clothes on his back.
But looking at the boy snuggled deep into the thick coat, Elias felt wealthier than any merchant in the city.
"Let's go home, Leo," Elias said softly. "I'll make the fire."