Tree of Ages Box Set

by Sara C. Roethle

  Soon Finn forgot all about the strange moment as she was overtaken by the chaos of the great city. Iseult had explained to her that Migris was one of two grand cities, the other being Sormyr, also known as the Gray City. Iseult was from somewhere farther North, but had emigrated from his homeland once it was all but destroyed. Within Migris, Iseult's mother had been executed for an incident blamed on Iseult, though he'd been no more than a child at the time. Finn had a strange feeling of nostalgia as she looked up and down the bustling streets, imagining Iseult running along them as a boy.

  Bedelia grabbed Finn's hand, interrupting her revelry to drag her forward. The grasp was necessary. The main street was crammed with people in all different states of dress. Some wore fine winter cloaks, letting Finn know the unseasonable cold had been holding on to the coast just like it had inland, while some wore garb similar to the fishermen and women she'd seen in Port Ainfean, loose, muted fabrics with swatches of cloth used to hold back unkempt hair.

  Finn almost stumbled as she took in a woman dressed in strange finery, deep emerald silks with delicate silver embroidery so ornate that Finn thought the clothing must have been created by magic.

  Bedelia tugged Finn forward, seemingly unimpressed by the spectacle. Rada pranced nervously behind them, tugging back on the reins in Bedelia’s hand, while keeping the city folk from overly crowding the women, lest they get kicked or trampled.

  Not wanting to miss a thing, Finn's eyes searched past the people to the buildings. Most were made of heavy, dark wood, and looked like they could withstand the strongest of storms. Many were ten times the size of the largest inns in Ainfean.

  A strange bird flying overhead caught Finn's eye. It was pure white with bands of gray, and a thick, yellow beak. It let out a throaty honking sound, soon drowned out by the murmur of conversation in the streets.

  “Is the sea near here?” Finn questioned, hoping Bedelia would take the time to answer her, as she seemed to be in a hurry.

  Bedelia looked over her shoulder at Finn, startling her with the paleness of her face, and the sweat on her brow.

  “Oh you're not well!” Finn exclaimed.

  Bedelia cringed, then turned forward to continue walking. “I'm fine, and yes, the sea is near. Can't you smell it?”

  As a matter of fact, she could. The chilly air was permeated with a salty, fishy smell. The smell plucked at something primal deep within her, something that cautioned those that thought they might conquer the sea, yet drew them in all the same.

  Bedelia began walking again, dragging Finn toward one of the imposingly large inns. The inn boasted a massive, ornate, rectangular sign, with curving waves and ships carved across its surface. More deeply carved was the inn's name, The Melted Sea, named after the nearby coast that Finn was finding herself almost desperate to see.

  A man dressed more like a fisherman than a stableman stood at attention as Bedelia handed him Rada's reins, giving him strict instructions on her horse’s care. She placed several coins in his grubby hand, and he assured her that Rada would be well cared for. As soon as the stableman led Rada away, Bedelia led Finn inside, shoving rudely past the loitering travelers partially blocking the wide doorway.

  Finn glanced apologetically back at them as they ventured inside. The inn’s interior was no less grand than the exterior, strewn with gleaming wood tables and heavy brass lanterns. The scent of food hit Finn’s nostrils, making her salivate after being on road rations for the past few days.

  She was forced between a group of women attempting to reach the bar and the presiding innkeep as Bedelia shouldered her way forward. The women were dressed in ornate silks like Finn had seen on the street, and all turned identical, calculating looks to her as she made her way past them. She shivered, uncomfortable with the attention the women were giving her, but then as one, they turned away, dismissing her.

  Once at the bar, Bedelia lifted her hand to catch the innkeep’s attention. He strode forward, ignoring all of the patrons who'd arrived before them. Finn gasped as the man came to a halt in front of them, with only the narrow bar to keep them apart. He was tall, as tall as Iseult, and had the same dark hair and greenish gray eyes, like those of a large, predatory, cat. He wore a fine, gray woolen tunic, and simple breeches.

  The innkeep's eyes landed on Finn for a moment, then moved back to Bedelia.

  Bedelia pulled Finn close to her side, then let go of her hand. “We need a room, Maarav,” Bedelia stated.

  Maarav. Finn wracked her brain for some meaning to the name, perhaps something Iseult had mentioned. They looked similar enough to be brothers. Bedelia obviously knew him. Perhaps Finn could ask her later.

  Maarav swept one of his long arms outward, encompassing the tightly packed patrons. “As you can see, we're very busy, my dear ladies.”

  Bedelia quirked her mouth into a half-smile. “We need a room, Maarav,” she repeated.

  He chuckled, then reached underneath the bar. His hand reappeared to produce a key, which he placed on the bar, then slid toward Bedelia. As soon as his hand retreated, Bedelia swiped up the key and strode away, once again leading Finn.

  “You didn't pay him,” Finn whispered as they pushed their way back through the crowd.

  “I will later,” Bedelia answered vaguely.

  Finn glanced back over her shoulder at Maarav, who watched her with a small smile. Their eyes met, and there was something there, like he knew something she wanted to know, and knew that she knew he knew it. Finn lost sight of him as he moved to help another patron, and Bedelia began leading her up the wide stairs in the far corner of the room.

  “We left our supplies on Rada,” Finn realized as she tried to keep up with Bedelia on the stairs. Bedelia probably shouldn't have been overexerting herself in her current condition, but Finn knew there would be no arguing with her.

  She didn't look back as she replied. “They'll be brought up to our room, don't worry.”

  Finn did worry. She worried about Maarav, looking at her like he knew her, and she worried about the Cavari snatching her away again. Most of all she worried about herself, and whether or not she would panic and cause the earth to come up and swallow the inn whole.

  Resigned, Finn followed Bedelia the rest of the way up the stairs to pause in front of one of the first rooms. Bedelia unlocked the door with the key Maarav had given her, then held it open for Finn to enter.

  The room inside was simple, with two beds, a table, and a roaring fire already going in a large, stone fireplace. The whitewashed walls made the room seem larger than it was.

  “We should let the innkeep know to keep an eye out for my friends,” Finn burst out, unable to contain her anxiety as she entered the room and turned on Bedelia.

  Bedelia nodded, then shut the door behind them, not doing as Finn asked at all. “Let’s have some tea first,” she said as she moved to a table near the single window. At Finn’s frantic expression, she added, “I’m not feeling well.”

  Suddenly feeling horribly guilty about disregarding Bedelia’s physical state, she rushed over to the table where Bedelia was filling a kettle from a small, clay jug of water. Bedelia ignored her attempt to help, pushing past her to hang the kettle over the fire.

  Resigned, Finn slumped down onto one of the beds to wait.

  Once the kettle was hot, Bedelia retrieved it with a cloth, then brought it back to the table. She looked over her shoulder at Finn, who was watching her intently.

  A knock sounded on the door.

  “That’s our supplies,” Bedelia explained, sounding relieved.

  Finn did not question her friend’s relief, as she was also worried about their belongings. Finn answered the door, retrieving the saddle bags from a woman dressed in the tight corset and gathered skirts she’d seen some of the barmaids wearing, while Bedelia finished the tea.

  Placing their belongings at the foot of one bed, Finn went to sit on the other bed with Bedelia, who handed her a steaming mug.

  Finn blew on the hot liquid, then ging
erly took a sip. “What type of tea is this?” she questioned, finding the taste strange and bitter.

  Bedelia sipped her tea. “It’s a restorative. You’ll feel good as new in no time.” She gestured to Finn’s cup. “Drink up.”

  Finn did as she was bade, sipping the tea as quickly as the temperature would allow. Not long after emptying the cup’s contents, she began to feel sleepy. Very sleepy.

  She turned to Bedelia to once again ask just what was in the tea, then she slumped to the bed, dead asleep.

  Bedelia smiled wickedly as Finn fell fast asleep, just as she’d planned. The powder she’d added to Finn’s mug of tea wouldn’t hurt her at all, in fact, she’d get a nice, peaceful rest as a result. She couldn’t have Finn getting suspicious of her actions, nor could she risk losing her in the city streets.

  After placing a blanket over Finn, Bedelia stood and left the room quickly, locking the door behind her. She still felt overwhelmingly ill, but she had things she needed to attend to. It had been Keiren’s plan for her to bring Finn to Migris. Now that she’d accomplished that step, she needed to move onto the next.

  She descended the stairs quickly, ignoring the throbbing pain in her leg. The common room had grown busy with the evening crowds, making it easy for Bedelia to slip out without drawing any attention to herself.

  As she exited, she glanced at Maarav, serving wine to a finely dressed trio of ladies. His eyes didn’t rise to notice her, which was for the best. Though Maarav and Bedelia had a business understanding, he did not know the intricacies of her life, and she didn’t want him observing her any more than was necessary. It was better that way. Bedelia had many secrets she would take with her to the grave.

  She wrapped her cloak tightly around her shoulders as she hurried out into the cold evening air. The streets were crowded, but Bedelia managed to dart from alleyway to alleyway unhindered. She'd been told that she was to meet someone, but she didn't know who, or why.

  She had brought the girl to Migris and gained her trust all on her own, and did not feel that a partner was needed at this point, but she trusted Keiren's judgment above all else. She thought back to Finn asleep in their room. She felt almost bad for tricking her, but it wasn't like the herbs would cause any harm.

  As she walked she felt eyes on her back, but when she turned around, there didn’t appear to be anyone watching her. Ignoring the feeling of unease, she continued on in the direction of the meeting point. She slipped past the happy people hopping from tavern to tavern, down an alleyway that would lead her to a more rundown area of town. The feeling of eyes on her remained. It was not wise for a woman to walk alone at night in the part of town she’d entered. Any number of thieves could be watching her. Luckily, Bedelia was no ordinary woman.

  “It's about time,” a voice called from the darkness behind her.

  She'd left her bow at the inn, but reached her hand beneath her cloak to grip the dagger that rested at her hip. She spun on her possible assailant.

  “You!” she gasped.

  The man's hair glinted silver in the moonlight. His unusually pale eyes held laughter, crinkling his slightly lined, but handsome face. “Surprised to see me, my lady?”

  Bedelia took a step back, her dagger trembling in her hand. “What do you want, Óengus?” she demanded, hating the slight quavering in her voice.

  “I'm here to meet you,” he explained as he took a step forward, bathing himself further in the moonlight. A black cloak disguised his body, perfect for slipping away unnoticed in the night after committing one crime or another. “I'm told you need help with a rather interesting . . . package.”

  “You're mistaken,” she snapped, backing further away. If she could put enough distance between Óengus and herself, she'd be able to turn her back and flee.

  Óengus shook his head and tsked at her. “Two weeks past, I met a fiery-haired woman in the woods, beautiful and tall, with pale blue eyes. She told me many interesting things, then left me with a mission. I was well on my way when she visited again, explaining that I must meet some poor, scared little girl in Migris, who needed help doing her job.”

  Bedelia felt heat creeping up her face. Keiren would never refer to her in such a way. It was ridiculous. Wasn't it? “You're lying,” she accused.

  Óengus tsked again and closed the small distance between them. “I've dealt with the tree girl before,” he explained. “I've been looking forward to another go at it.”

  Bedelia felt like she might cry, but she would rather endure torture than give Óengus the satisfaction. “I don't believe you. You're just trying to steal the girl from me.”

  Óengus' icy eyes glinted in the moonlight as he smiled. “Your lady told me to offer you a message. She said, Do not argue mo leon baineann. We all do what we must.”

  Bedelia sucked in a breath and held it for so long that she thought she might faint. Mo leon baineann. My lioness. It was Keiren’s pet name for her, used only in private. Keiren really had sent Óengus to her, but why? She knew how hard Bedelia had worked to escape him, so many years before.

  She tensed her jaw in frustration. “What is our plan?”

  Óengus bared his teeth in a wicked smile. He knew he had her. Bedelia had a feeling that this time, she might not escape him like she’d managed in the past.

  Finn had woken to an empty room. She couldn't believe she'd fallen asleep so suddenly. She could tell by the noise of the common room that it was still relatively early, and her suspicions were verified by her missing companion. Bedelia had likely gone in search of supper.

  She left her room to creep down the inn's wide stairs, wishing she had something to wear other than her tattered, dirty dress. Unfortunately, she was stuck with it, and she was too hungry to let her appearance stop her.

  She reached the landing and was accosted by the din of conversation, flavored with the scent of food in the air. The inn was packed. There were almost enough chairs for most of the patrons, but not quite. A few groups stood off in corners while they ate their meals.

  Finn's mouth watered. Everything smelled delicious, but she had no coin. She looked past the many patrons to the bar. Maarav was still there serving wine and whiskey, though now he had several serving maids tending the tables, balancing large trays of food like they weighed nothing.

  Maarav glanced at Finn as she approached, then began wiping the bar with a clean cloth. She was hesitant to talk to him, as she knew little about him, and had fallen asleep before she could prod Bedelia for information, but the call of food won out. If Bedelia could pay him later for the room, perhaps Finn could pay him later for food. If she happened to find out some information on him in the process, then so be it.

  Before she had moved forward far enough to ask him, his eyes met hers. Not looking away, he raised his hand to catch the attention of one of the serving maids, then pointed to Finn. A moment later, the girl approached and handed Finn a bowl of stew and two fresh slices of bread from her large tray.

  Finn took the food in hand awkwardly, then looked around for a place to sit. Once again acting first, Maarav stared down a man who had a seat at the bar, then gestured for him to move. The man did as he was bade, not offering a single argument. Maarav motioned for Finn to take the vacated seat.

  Entirely regretting her decision to leave her room in the first place, Finn shuffled forward, bowl and bread in hand. She climbed into the seat and set both on the bar as Maarav placed a pewter mug of wine in front of her.

  “Thank you,” she muttered.

  He nodded. “Any friend of Bedelia’s is a friend of mine.”

  Finn nodded, as her resolve suddenly left her. How had she ever thought to wheedle information out of him? She was a terrible liar, and the only way she knew to gain information was to ask questions directly.

  When Maarav didn't walk away, she took a deep breath, summoning her courage, then looked up to meet his intense, gray-green eyes. “It seems you’re quite busy,” she said politely, hoping he would take the hint to leave her alone.<
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  He smiled wryly. “Though that is true, I’d never leave a woman as lovely as you sitting alone at my bar.”

  Finn frowned, then glanced down the length of the bar to see several lovely women waiting to be attended, then turned her gaze back to him.

  “Eat your food,” he instructed.

  She did as he asked, though she felt increasingly uncomfortable with him watching her. Unable to take the odd situation any longer, she asked, “Have you always lived in Migris?”

  He inclined his head. “For the most part.”

  “And Bedelia, how do you know her?” she pressed.

  He raised an eyebrow. “If she has not told you, then perhaps she doesn't want you to know.”

  “I'm sorry-” she began.

  “My turn,” he cut her off.

  Finn gasped at the abrupt turn in conversation, then stared back at him, too befuddled to speak.

  His black hair fell forward as he leaned over the bar, bringing his gaze close enough that it would have been awkward for her to look away. “I know your face. Normally, I would brush it off as perhaps a family resemblance, but given these times, and the rumors floating about, I do not think your appearance mere coincidence. Now tell me, how is it that you happen to be sitting right in front of me? By the records, you should be long dead.”

  Finn's head was spinning, and she felt like she might vomit from anxiety. The records, he'd said. Iseult had previously explained to Finn that he'd recognized her face from a book his mother had shown him. He'd known who she was, even before she figured it out herself. Could this man, who looked so very much like Iseult, have seen the same book?

  “I don't know what you're talking about,” she breathed.

  He leaned a little closer. “The look on your face says otherwise.”

  She stood abruptly and pushed away from the bar. The Cavari had eradicated Iseult's people, the people of Uí Néid, from the face of the earth. If Maarav was also from Uí Néid, Finn had little doubt of his intentions. She had learned much on the nature of man over the past weeks. Iseult, who wanted to right his people's wrongs, was a special case. Anyone else would just want revenge upon any directly responsible for their undoing.