Chapter 170: Snitches and stitches
At first, the townsfolk stared at the ill-begotten tatters of silk in stunned silence. Over the next two minutes, Percy watched the colour drain from their faces, their eyes widening with panic. But still, nobody dared to utter a sound. It wasn’t until another minute later that somebody finally broke the oppressive stillness.
“What have you done?!” a man cried, his voice quivering.
“Those cursed life-suckers will have our heads!” another shouted.
Like a spark igniting dry tinder, the second voice set the crowd alight. Mutters and whispers rippled through the gathering. Many of the residents covered their mouths as they spoke, some casting nervous glances at Percy and Nesha, while others pointed at them with trembling fingers. Soon, their fear began to transform into quiet accusations.
“Everyone, calm down!” Fegan raised his hand, causing the chatter to die down.
Then he took a step forward, approaching Percy.
“Young man… While I’m sure you have a lot to tell us and, believe me, everyone here is dying to hear you out, there are a couple things I’m going to need you to clarify beforehand.”
Percy didn’t say anything, merely nodding at the old man to speak.
“Is the owner of those clothes dead?”