“And you need us to see you the rest of the journey.” Alaron finished, nodding to himself.
“Quite so. I know it’s extra trouble for you, but can you take us anywhere near the city, or spare men to escort us there?”
Alaron frowned at her. “I dislike my people moving near enemy territory. We are closer than I normally allow as it is. Still, for your family’s sake I can spare a score of men to take you the rest of the way.” Temperance heart jumped at the news. That was far better than she had dared hope the Ta-tet leader might offer.
“However, there is a price to these things,” Alaron went on. “Especially for so much risk. You know what it is I wish, yes?”
“I have a guess,” Temperance said, the warm feeling inside her evaporating like it had never been there at all. “May I counter offer—”
Alaron held up a hand. “This is neither the time nor place for such talk. Please, relax, recover, and we shall speak of this on the morrow.”
“Tomorrow? I hoped we might leave again within the hour.”
The Ta-tet leader shook his head. “This is impossible. Two days at the earliest, then I can send my men with you. Unless you would rather go now, on your own?”
Temperance glanced back to the edge of the wagons. Lalaish’s men had retreated, but she doubted they’d gone far. The bandits would strike the moment she and Peter left the safety of the circle.
“Two days will be just fine.”
“Wonderful!” Alaron turned and clapped his hands. “Everyone, we have guests! Let us all make them welcome!” He looked back at her and smiled. “Tomorrow night we shall feast you well before sending you on your way, but for the moment, let us find a place for your . . . prisoner.”
They walked through the press of people going about a hundred daily tasks: mending clothing, curing leather, shearing orak, and tending to more cookpots than Temperance could count. She wasn’t alone at staring around at the activity; Peter and Lalaish seemed equally impressed.
“Who are these people?” the sorcerer asked at last. “I am not familiar with this term, ‘Harmonist’.” He drew out each syllable, like he was tasting them.
“Oh, you would like them, Lalaish, I bet you’ll get along just fine. They’re daemon worshippers, just like you.” Peter sneered at the crowd as he spoke. Several people nearby turned angry gazes at the marshal, and Alaron looked ready to spit, but before the leader could respond Temperance spoke up.
“They aren’t daemon worshippers. They just have a different perspective about the creatures.”
“Oh?” Lalaish asked. “What is that?”
“We believe they aren’t the monsters the Federation has made them out to be.” Alaron’s voice boomed around them, and many of his people stopped to listen. “When we first came to these shores, we were already outcasts from the other refugees fleeing Galinor. After the first of the Unmade set upon us, we had nowhere to flee, no one to call for aid. We learned to deal with these creatures in our own way.”
Alaron went silent, and Temperance picked up the thread of the story. “When my grandpa first discovered how to contain a daemon’s essence, there were no bounties yet, no church containment and purification process. So James brought them to the Harmonists.”
Now it was Peter who looked intrigued. “And what do they do with them?”
Temperance glanced at Alaron, but he was glaring at the marshal and remained silent. She turned back and shrugged. “No one knows, they wouldn’t tell anyone, even my grandpa.”
“It is better this way.” Alaron resumed walking. “Come, let us find you all somewhere quiet to rest.”
* * *
They left Lalaish chained inside a schooner used to storage spare cloth and leather. Despite the Ta-tet leader’s protests, Temperance insisted on inspecting the contents of every crate to ensure there was nothing on hand that the sorcerer might make use of.
As they departed, she turned to the posted guards. “He is to receive nothing I haven’t approved, you understand? Nothing, not even a glass of water unless I’ve inspected it first.” The men nodded, but she couldn’t help feeling like they didn’t appreciate the depth of the situation. Still, Alaron assured her they would follow orders to the letter.
After that, she and Peter got some much needed rest. Temperance hadn’t realized just how short she had been on sleep until she laid her head down on a pillow. By the time she awoke, it was dark outside. Peter still snored on a mattress across from her, so she crept past him and slipped through the wagon’s flaps.
Outside, Temperance discovered that they had slept longer than she had thought. A pink tinge hung over the horizon, and as she watched, it grew brighter by a hair’s breadth. She and the marshal had passed the entire night away, it seemed.
She set off across the camp, which was already coming awake with activity. Several dozen cookpots crackled and smoked, thick porridge bubbling away inside. Men and women ran back and forth, organizing animals, hitching up wagons, and otherwise preparing to depart for another day.
Watching them go about their tasks, Temperance felt a pang of jealousy for the lives that these Harmonists must lead. Simple, yes, but far more peaceful than her own.
Just then, a group of children walked by, marching in unison to the cries of their leader,each with a rifle slung over their shoulder. Perhaps life here was not as peaceful as her imagination would like it to be.
On the other side of the camp she found Alaron’s wagon. It looked no different from any other except in coloring, elaborate patterns along its sides painted with delicate touches of gold and silver. Standing next to the back step was a young man close to Temperance’s own age, with slicked black hair and a loose jacket of some purplish color. He watched her approach and nodded a greeting when she drew up in front of him.
“I’m looking for Alaron, he in there?”
The young man shrugged. “Most likely, unless he snuck out the back to water the plains. You want me to fetch him?”
“That would be most kind.”
The youth didn’t move from where he stood. “Old man!” he bellowed without taking his eyes off Temperance. She resisted the urge to jump. “You’ve got a visitor!”
The young man grinned, then pushed himself away from the wagon. Temperance had to step back out of the way as he brushed on by. She turned to glare at him, but the youth didn’t so much as look back at her. A moment later he disappeared into the crowd.
“Ah, good morning, Miss Whiteoak.” She turned to see Alaron’s head sticking from between the wagon flaps. “I see you met my grandson.”
“I reckon that’s one way to put it.”
If the Ta-tet leader noticed her expression, he gave no indication. Instead he hopped down from his wagon and motioned to a table made of several crates. Temperance took a seat, Alaron dropping onto a barrel across from her. A moment later a woman appeared as if by magic and deposited two steaming bowls in front of them.
Looking down, Temperance realized for the first time just how hungry she was. Her stomach had seen nothing besides road rations for far too long now; a good home-cooked meal was long overdue.
Alaron ladled a large spoonful of the porridge into his mouth and then waved his utensil at her. “What did you think of the lad? He would make a good choice for you, all things considered.”
Temperance glanced up, mouth already filled with porridge. She swallowed half, then talked around the rest. “Good choice for what?”
“For a husband,” Alaron said, his voice far too casual. Temperance nearly choked on the rest of her food. “You mentioned you were without one last night.”
After a moment of frantic dry swallowing, Temperance got her mouth cleared. “Is that what you meant when you said there would be a price? I assumed you were talking about—”
Alaron waved away the rest of her question. “No, no, I only thought you might wish to consider it. This is a dangerous world for a woman to be alone in, and you might find you like the advantages that come with marry
ing into a Ta-tet. They are far better than what any Federation dog can offer you, I promise that.”
“I’m managing just fine on my own, thank you.” Before Alaron could say anything else, she changed the subject. “Well, what is the price of your hospitality?”
“Ah. Normally I would not discuss business while breaking my fast, but I can see this is eating at you. My demands are simple. I see the bands across your shoulders there, and know what you carry, Miss Whiteoak.”
Temperance reached a hand up to one of her bandoliers. Did they want her hexbullets? That wouldn’t make any sense, even if they knew how to use them. Unless the Ta-tet planned to turn her grandfather’s creations against the Federation . . .
Before she could finish that line of thinking, Temperance realized that Alaron was still speaking. “You’re following in your family’s footsteps, if I am not mistaken. Sealing up innocent creatures and handing them over to ignorant fools worshipping false gods. All I ask in exchange for our help is that from now on you offer us any Unmade before turning them over to the Federation.”
Ah, that. “Is there nothing else I can offer you?”
Alaron shook his head. “No, I think not. Unless you would like to cement your bond with the Harmonists even further? In such a case, I might renegotiate.”
Temperance knew where the conversation was headed. “Your terms are acceptable. Before I sell any daemons to the Federation, I’ll bring them to you.”
“Wonderful!” Alaron clapped his hands together, then grew serious. “This agreement includes any Unmade currently in your possession, of course.”
For a moment, Temperance considered lying to the Ta-tet leader. However, something in the man’s eyes said he would sniff out her deception, and only disaster could come of that. She reached a hand into her pouch and withdrew the quicksilver vial.
Alaron’s eyes widened, and he took the vial. Cradling it between his hands, he leaned down, his face almost pressed to the side of the container. He drew in a deep breath and held it. Time seemed to stretch out, and Temperance debated whether it would be rude to resume eating breakfast.
The next moment the Ta-tet leader straightened. With a sad expression, he returned the vial.
“I’m afraid we can do nothing for this one. Where we might take him would only be worse than if he spent eternity where he is right now.”
This piece of information caught Temperance by surprise, but she tried not to let it show. Keeping her face neutral, she nodded and returned the vial to her pouch.
Breakfast only half eaten, Alaron stood and stretched. “It was good speaking with you, Miss Whiteoak. The wagons will move out soon, I suggest you finish eating. However, I’m afraid my duties can wait no longer.”
He nodded and turned to leave. Before he got a half-dozen steps, he looked back at her. “You should consider my other offer as well.”
Temperance nodded again, and Alaron drifted off into the crowd, shouting greetings and instructions. Once the Ta-tet leader had passed out of sight she released the heavy sigh she had been holding. It seemed as if the gods were looking out for her after all.
Chapter Twelve
When the wagon wheel slid into a crevice on the plain large enough to to lie down in, the impact woke Peter at last. The marshal jerked upright and stared about bleary-eyed, blankets of a half dozen different colors falling away and sliding across the wooden floor.
“Well well, look who’s up. Afternoon, Marshal.” Temperance grinned back at him from the buckboard and cracked the reins hard enough to set the cattle to bellowing. She ignored the animals’ complaints. They were Stervalkian Browns, or some close descendent, and it was unlikely that the ropes even penetrated their thick coats. Must have been sweltering for them, though, in this climate.
Peter just stared at her all feather-headed. “Afternoon? Did I miss breakfast?” His stomach let out an accompanying gurgle.
Temperance cracked the ropes again, and the animals hauled the wagon out of the crevice. The marshal pitched against the side as everything righted itself. “You did, and lunch besides. Don’t worry though, from what Alaron tells me we’ll get more than enough tonight to make up for it. I think he’s decided that generosity is the best way to show how superior his people are to the Federation.”
“Better than the alternative. He won’t hear any complaints from me.” Peter crawled through the flaps and dropped into the seat next to her. “Where are we bound?”
“Nowhere particular, near as I can tell. The Ta-tet is moving along the edges of Benson’s border, trying to get around the canyon we just had the pleasure of seeing up close and personal. Sounds like tomorrow they’ll reach one of the better maintained roads and see us on our way from there.”
“You and this Alaron have come to some . . . agreement on an escort, I take it?”
“We have.” Temperance said no more, and Peter didn’t ask. After a moment of silence, she continued, “No sight of Lalaish’s men. They’re still out there prowling about, but at this point there’s nothing they can do that won’t result in a fair amount of death. Looks like you’ve successfully captured your first prisoner, Marshal.”
“Forgive me if I don’t celebrate until we’re through the gates of Benson. Still, it’s a marked relief to see the end in sight. No trouble from the prisoner himself?”
Temperance shook her head. “I haven’t seen him for a few hours now, but last I checked he was sulking something fierce. Likely still coming to terms with being put on trial.”
“Won’t that be a sight.” Peter grinned at her, and she repaid him with a smile of her own.
After that, the day passed without incident. She and Peter talked of trivial things: news from out east and happy memories of childhood. He told her about growing up in the capital, and she shared some about her younger days in Cold Valley. Her grandfather had founded the town on land gifted to him by the Federation, a remote claim on the south side of the continent.
When she was younger it had seemed like such a generous thing. The soil there had been fertile beyond imagination, and the hillsides perfect for grazing orak. Only later had she realized the land was a way to place her grandfather far from the rest of the country where he couldn’t cause any trouble. Such knowledge didn’t diminish the happiness of her childhood memories, though. Not much, at any rate.
She told Peter about the time she was nine and her grandfather had set her hunting a wikilou on her own. The creatures were similar to a bear, but with a head that resembled a snake. She had gone out with as many mundane bullets as she could pack, but between the creature’s tough skin and her own inexperience had wasted them before the creature fell.
“He had me cornered at that point, up on the cliffs that overlooked the valley. Nothing but a sheer drop below me, and no way to get around him. Should have had me for supper, by all accounts.”
“What happened?” Peter asked. “Someone come to your rescue?”
Temperance shook her head. “No, I saved myself. Besides all the mundane shots I carried, I had a hexbullet I swiped from the forge. Wasn’t sure I even knew the proper incantation for it, so I just mumbled a lot of the old tongue. It burst from my gun looking like a frog someone had set on fire and then smashed with a hammer. Went wild into some nearby bushes, but I guess the flamespawn took pity on me, as it hopped back and set the wikilou to cooking.”
“What did James have to say about that?”
“Oh, he was angrier than a wet cat. You think I gave you trouble over wasting precious ammo on that rabbit, it was nothing compared to what awaited me when I got home. Apparently the whole town watched the show from down in the valley. I didn’t hear the end for months.”
Peter laughed, and a moment later Temperance joined him. It was an easy enough memory to look on happily now, with time to give her perspective.
Afterwards the marshal wiped a tear from his eye, and they lapsed into silence. The Ta-tet drifted around them, a cacophony of murmuring voices and lowing animals, but the qu
iet surrounding their wagon felt solid, palpable. Still, it wasn’t an unpleasant thing, and Temperance savored the moment, willing it to last a little longer.
Sadly the end came all too soon. Alaron passed along the line, calling a halt for the day. They unhitched the animals and rubbed them down, unpacked wagons, and set up tables and workstations. The camp burst to life, people resuming all the duties that had to wait until the wagons stopped.
If anything, the camp was even more bustling than it had been the day before. Some members set to digging an enormous fire pit, while others hung ropes containing paper lanterns around the camp edge or from poles they planted in the ground. Based on the sheer numbers, it did not appear the camp would be any less bright once night fell.
Temperance tried to lend a hand with the preparations, but after being shooed away by cooks, seamstresses, and woodcutters, she wandered to the corral to seek out Astor.
She found the horse munching grass in a corner of the temporary enclosure, and he nickered in a friendly way at her approach.
I like it here, he said as Temperance swung herself over the fence. They take the time to brush me every day, unlike some people. Also, there’s a filly that’s been making eyes in my direction since this morning.
Temperance glanced over at the sleek calico horse that kept swinging its head in their direction. “Isn’t she a little young for you?”
Astor gave her a long look, and Temperance shrugged. “I’m happy for you, may she bring you years of joy. You realize they’re only being nice because they want us to stay, right?”
The horse nodded. Still, it can’t hurt to enjoy the moment. Who knows what will happen or where we’ll find ourselves after this. Not much time to relax while we’re still on Varconis’s trail, now is there?
Temperance didn’t know how to respond to that, so she changed the subject. “Just be ready to ride at first light. I want to finish this mission and get back on the road.”
I’m always ready. It was difficult to tell, but it appeared Astor was grinning.
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