“Sean, I don’t believe we should tell the people our troubles. If they think we bring danger, they won’t let us stay. No mention of witches or mordants. We’ll sleep well tonight, and then we’ll be on our way tomorrow. A’right?”
“Um, a’right,” Sean said, fascinated by the market and the people in wagons and carts crossing the roads, making their way from shop to shop. His mouth was open from disbelief that so many people could live and breathe in such a small place.
A group of women in black shawls entered a shop near the market, the sign on the door signifying it as an apothecary. Breanna shivered for a moment, unsure why, but she knew the women were not like those from Nore Mountain. Their auras felt unnatural. Miralda, is there evil in this place? What manner of woman enters the shop and peeks this way with eyebrows raised in question? Inside her, the ancient’s hatred for clever witches almost overpowered the mind of the girl.
“Sean! Quick, duck! Hide behind the cistern,” she said, moving out of sight of the apothecary’s door. She watched from her hiding spot and saw the curious eyes disappear; the woman shrugged as she entered the shop last in line. “We must take care to stay away from suspicious souls while we’re here. Elida is safe as long as they don’t have us. I know it, but I’m not sure how I know.”
Sean continued to be goggle-eyed over the trappings of the town. A poor country boy who knew everyone in his village, he was awed by the comings and goings of a large settlement. A man standing near the door of a butcher shop appeared amiable and unthreatening enough to answer a question or two, and Breanna approached him silently. She smiled, and the man checked his stance, always alert to a pretty girl, even one so young.
“Can you tell me, Mer, what is the name of this township?”
“Aye, it’s called Centre; was once named Rivers End, but souls here thought Centre sounded better.”
“And why was it named Rivers End?”
“Well, lass, the end of the Tribon, and the beginning of the Iree happens just downriver. Didn’t your mam and poppa tell you? What are you doing in a place you have no idea of the name?”
“Oh, I’m sure my mam and poppa know it, just asking for myself.” She was moving away from the man, hoping to avoid his curiosity.
“Come back here, lass. Didn’t mean to scare you none,” the man said, trying to follow her.
“It’s a’right, not scared, but I hear my mam calling. She’ll pop me a good one if she sees me talking to you. Sorry.”
The two travelers entered the inn called Bed and Ale, and Sean pulled their coins from his pocket. They found a charwoman clearing a long board table.
“Dam, we need a room with supper, is such possible?” Breanna asked in her most grown-up voice.
The woman looked at them and pointed to the far side of the room, where a tall, thin man with a long mustache stood counting coins.
“Him. He’ll take your money and then some,” the woman said under her breath. “Two pence, and no more. Remember.” She went back to cleaning, keeping her eyes away from the two young people.
“Pardon,” Breanna said, approaching the man at the table, “but I need a room and supper for me and my brother.” She stood straight with her head back, trying to look older than her fifteen years.
The man looked her over and said, “Three pence.”
“Three pence? But the man outside told me two pence, all my mam and poppa gave me.”
“And them, your folks, will they be sneaking into the room with you later?”
“Oh no, they’ll be here tomorrow. We came before them, in a boat. They’ll come later in a cart.” Breanna chided herself for a moment. Where are these untruths coming from?
“Two pence? Well, a’right,” he grumbled. “You’re lucky I don’t throw you out. Supper is one bowl each and no more.”
Sean handed over the coins, careful to keep the others out of sight. Kit was hidden deep in the arrow quiver, and shivered from the sound of the man’s voice. Breanna felt the brief movement against her shoulder.
The charwoman showed them to the room, and Breanna thanked her for the kindness. “Watch yourself well. Bad things happen to young, pretty girls like you. Carry anything you cherish on your back, or ’twill be gone when you return, and eat your supper fast. Bar the door well behind you. Him is not to be trusted.”
“You are kind, dam. My thanks again,” Breanna said as the woman hesitated at the door.
“Cover your ears, girl. They hate your kind,” the charwoman whispered as she eased the door closed behind her.
Breanna put Kit down and told him to hide behind the clothing trunk in the corner of the room. The little fox was frightened, and the spot was just where he wanted to be. “If someone comes in here while we’re gone,” Breanna yipped, “stay hidden. They’ll hurt you if you don’t.
“Sean,” Breanna said, getting the boy’s attention. “I’ll be glad when Elida comes back to us and takes care of Kit. He really needs her.”
“If she comes back,” the boy said sadly. Changing the subject, he added, “I don’t like that man, Bree. He’s up to no good.”
“Yes.” She sighed. “I know he is.” She thought about what the woman had said, and searched her pack for something to serve as a scarf, then settled on an old shirt once belonging to Elida. She folded it into a square and tied it, covering the braid and the points of her ears. “I want to leave here, Sean, as soon as we can, but I don’t know how we can go without travel goods.”
Back downstairs, they quickly sat down at the table with several kind-looking farmers and a few others who appeared unsavory. The beady eyes of a ne’er-do-well stared at Breanna as he smacked his lips from under a wide-brimmed straw hat. A woman in a tan dress smiled at the young people before ducking her head over her stew, hiding her eyes from the men at the table.
The food was tolerable, or so Sean said, but Breanna had such a reaction to the words of the charwoman, and the sight of their supper mates, that she gave up half her food to the boy. Her appetite was put aside in favor of watching every move the people around them made. After Elida was taken, Breanna felt an even greater responsibility toward Sean. His safety was crucial to her. She couldn’t bear to believe evil souls might hurt him in their attempts to capture her. It was truly unthinkable.
“Hurry, Sean, finish your food. We need to get out of here. There are staring eyes from each corner of this room,” she whispered. It was difficult to communicate, for the noise coming from the men at the table as they slurped their stew covered all other sounds. But the rest of the tables were filled with curious souls, concerned with the business of the two young people at the long table.
“Bring the bread. Get as much as you can from the plate,” she said, nudging Sean.
Up the stairs she went, with Sean behind her, his hand full of bread, their steps fast but cautious, as they tried to avoid attention. They slammed the door behind them and wedged a stool under the latch. From the looks of the room, it had been tossed about, the few possessions not on their back either stolen or left broken on the floor. Breanna silently thanked the charwoman for her warning.
Kit came out from behind the chamber pot where he had finally hidden. The fox had been wise in choosing a hiding place, for few men would attend to a chamber pot unless forced. The window in the room showed an overcast sky with darkness in the east, an evil omen in Breanna’s mind, for the hour was still early. She kept the shade down as she peeked outside, searching the streets for any help.
They no longer had transportation, but if necessary they could walk. The weather was warming, and the forest had thinned enough to maneuver through the trees and brush, and still stay close to the water. Breanna asked Sean to keep watch at the window for the black-shawled women they had seen earlier, and to bar the door behind her, for she hoped to find the charwoman and ask her some questions. The hallway was short, with rooms on either side, a sharp left turn, then another one back, until the top floor of the inn made a rectangle of boarding rooms. The door to
one of the rooms was standing open with the charwoman in sight as she gathered the chamber pot and put a pitcher of clean water on the table. Breanna hailed her.
“Pardon, dam, could you answer a question or two for me?”
“Girl, what do you mean? Do you not listen?” the charwoman asked, grabbing Breanna by the shoulder, forcing her into the empty room. “Did you not hear me tell you this place is dangerous to a young girl like yourself?”
“Yes, I heard you. It’s why I came to you.”
“There are very bad people here,” the woman said, releasing Breanna. “They would cause you great harm if they caught you by yourself. You must leave here as soon as it’s light. Grab your biscuit and bacon then get on the way from this place.”
“I promise to go back to my room and stay. But can you tell me what is beyond this town?”
“Child, you’re asking questions when you should be leaving. Quickly now—there is Ice Mountain at the beginning of the two rivers. All sorts of things there, but the ones’ll get you are the Orbels, and they’ll bite your head off and spit out your boots. Watch well, girl; there’s terrors out there, but none bad as some you’ll meet in here. Go now while I can see you.”
The door to their room was cracked open, with Sean peeking outside, waiting for her, his expression fearful.
“I was afraid you left,” he said.
They closed the door behind them and barred it with a chair and Breanna’s bow, the only wood in the room.
“As soon as it’s light, we must go,” she said. “The charwoman warned me again to get out, but we need supplies for the road. I have no clothes except these britches, and they are ragged. And you, your elbows are sticking out of the cloth and your pockets are torn away. I hope to find a farm woman who will sell us clothing for a penny. We have so little coin, but it’s important we not look the part of beggars.”
“I saw nothing out of the way while you were gone,” Sean said. “I’m going to sleep.”
“Yes, you sleep. I’ll watch for a while.” She settled herself by the window, watching through the bottom slat of the shutters. With no idea what she expected to see, she was more at peace observing the comings and goings of Centre. Down below the window sat a cart with similar sides and doors, reminding her of the cart that carried her across the Emptiness with Tom Simpkin. A closer look in the half-light verified it was indeed the same cart, and it appeared to be parked on the way out of the city. She saw her old rescuer as he snoozed in the front of the wagon.
“Psst. Sean. We have to go downstairs. Tom Simpkin is here. I hope he’ll carry us away. I am going down to the street. Watch for me.”
The boy was asleep, but wakened when she called. He had learned to never argue with her when she sounded so determined.
“A’right. Go, but watch yourself.”
Out the window, beneath the slatted shutter, she crawled until she reached the building’s overhang. There she reached into her memories. Sheela, I must reach the street where the wagon is parked. Please help me. Stepping to the edge of the roof, Breanna looked all ways, and jumped from the second level, soaring to the cobblestones below, her feet landing lightly against the far side of the cart. Thank you, Sheela, she thought gratefully. She tapped on the door of the cart, watching the road for mischief workers.
“Tom Simpkin,” she whispered. She knocked again, more insistently. “Tom, Tom Simpkin.”
“Go away.” The call came from inside. “Go bother some other sleeping soul.”
“Tom, it’s the elven girl, the one you carried across the Emptiness. I need your help.”
“What? Who’s there?” The door came open slowly at first, then quickly as he motioned her inside. “It is you. What are you doing here? Oh my, you have grown.”
“Yes, I have grown, but I am still the same lost girl I was the day you left me at the Vales’ home in Weir.”
“Shush. Keep the noise down. We aren’t any safer here than you were outside.” Tom had heard the rumbling about an elven girl who was responsible for the destruction of homes and lives along the Tribon. He had never considered it to be Breanna, but surprises were what made his life more meaningful. “The folk here don’t want you. They’re afraid you’ll bring them misery.”
“But I… It’s not my fault. The wit—”
“Shush, don’t say the word. ’Twill bring nothing but heartache,” he said, clapping his hand over her mouth.
“But it was them,” she insisted. “They killed her parents and now they have taken Elida.”
“What? The parents are dead, and the baby gone. What happened?” Tom asked.
“It was terrible. They sent a demon and it killed Alane and Willum, and then came a Phoebus, and it stole Elida away. They want me to go to them. It is me they want and Elida suffers for it, Tom. Oh, but why do they want me?” She started to sniffle then stopped, remembering her age, and that she must act as a woman grown. “I’m sorry. I’m confused.”
“I don’t know why, but the reason isn’t important. If they’re willing to take the girl, they are determined.” Tom shook his head sadly. “I am heartsick over the Vales, and I wish I could help you.”
“You can, Tom. Get me away from here, downriver, and then we’ll be on our way.”
“We? Who else is here?” Tom was very upset. His plans were turning sour, and the cause was the same girl who’d given him such fits of guilt once before. “Who’s here with you?”
“The boy, Sean. All he has now is Elida. And me,” Breanna said, yawning. She was tired, after having gone without sleep for many hours.
“Oh my. Appears as though I might be going your way. No doubt,” he said after a moment, “tis the way I’m headed. Can you gather the boy quickly?”
“Yes, I’ll be back soon. Be ready.”
Tom settled in the cart, prepared to nap until the girl returned. His head was a little foggy from the ale he had consumed earlier. He was glad now he’d already bought supplies first. Of course, ’twas so he didn’t spend his coin on the drink and have nothing left for his living. Tom knew all about drinking ale until all the pennies were gone, and none was left to buy wheat, corn, and figs. He had done so too often for his own liking, but not that day.
He almost slept, but came alert when the window on the top level of the inn opened, and two bodies crawled to the overhang. The elven girl stood against the edge of the roofline and jumped. Tom cringed, prepared to see her and the boy splatter the cobblestones, but instead of a tragedy in the making, it was a miracle of flight. All the way to the far side of his wagon she soared, the boy in her arms. Tom shook his head and rubbed his eyes.
“Aye, the ale is confusing me,” he said, determined to slow his drinking. “You made a quick trip, lass—thought I would catch forty winks, but here you are.”
“We hurried,” Sean said. “I’m Sean. Remember me?”
“Aye, but ’tis a long time, and you’re most grown. Get in and seat yourself. You too, lass.”
“Tom, I can keep watch for you.”
“Lass, it’s a mite dark. Just be still and hide yourself.”
“Tom, I can keep watch,” she insisted. “My elven nature, you know.”
Mara, I need your memories. My life and Sean’s depend upon you. Breanna spoke to her mother’s friend as she had before. Help me see beyond the now and into danger.
“Tell me no more, child,” Tom said. “Watch if you may, but stay down.” He was intent on the cottages and shops between him and the outskirts of Centre, watching for figures on horseback or those walking.
“Tom, there ahead, at the wall beside the town gate, two men stand with drawn swords.”
“Hide, girl. You and the boy; they’ll look inside the wagon.”
Breanna motioned to Sean to leave the wagon through the back door and crawl underneath, across the axle. She was just behind him, reaching for the framework of the cart, her arms locking around the crossed poles underneath. She drew her legs up with knees against her chest and held on for her life
. Sean was lying near her, away from the deadly wheels turning on the axles against the opposite pole.
“Pray he goes slowly and we don’t fall, Sean.”
“A’right, I will,” he whispered.
Breanna listened to the sounds coming from far away, the voices discussing the girl and the reward for her capture. They were coin-hungry men who would stoop to any level to have what was offered for her skin, never caring whether she lived through the ordeal or not. Fear had her trembling, and her arms were growing weary of holding on. When the cart pulled beside the men at the gate, she wondered how so much trouble had landed on her shoulders.
“What’s in yer wagon? Let’s have a look. Hmm. Nothing here. Where’re ye going, jester? Hiding someone, are ye?” The men had stepped back, finally, their eyes and attention already elsewhere. “Be along with ye now, jester, out of the way.”
A man on horseback entered the gate, headed toward the inn. The two guards stopped his travel and demanded to know if he had seen the girl on the road. “Smallish, eyes the color of water, auburn locks. Elf-like. Ye be seeing her?” The man mumbled a curse word and shook his head before heading toward the inn.
Several yards down the road away from Centre, the cart stopped and Tom got out. He peered beneath the wagon and saw both his passengers lying on the ground, stretching stiff muscles.
“I say, I’m proper impressed with the two of you. You’re strong, and smart, too. You just might get along in this world.”
Breanna crawled out from under the cart, her arms and fingertips stretching toward the heavens. Sean had fared better; lying atop the pole, he had support for his body.
“Tom, I need to sleep. I will be in your cart for a while if it’s a’right with you.”
“And me,” Sean said, yawning against his hand.
“We’ll all be sleeping soon. There’s a place I know down the road. I’ll park her for the night. You two get some rest.” Tom returned to his duties and the oxen after packing his pipe. He yearned for a firebrand to light it, but contented himself with waiting.
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