by Robert Evert
“Let’s go get a beer.” Artis’s insistent finger snapped up, cutting short Natalie’s protests. “First, no talking about anything you don’t want to talk about. Second, I’m buying. Third, I can’t make you go with me, but I can be really annoying if you don’t.”
Natalie’s smile softened. She’d known the tall, scrawny Artis her entire life. Now, staring up at him, she realized he wasn’t all that scrawny anymore. How did she not notice that before?
“I’ll buy my own beer,” she said.
“Tell you what—I’ll buy the first round, you buy the second. Deal?”
“Fine.”
Natalie moved out of the plodding horses’ way and glanced up and down the street. Shouting merchants stood by their carts, trying to make one last sale for the night. Several had chickens and ducks hanging from meat hooks, necks broken, ready to be plucked and gutted, while others displayed some that were already freshly cooked. Though they looked ghastly, the scent made her stomach growl. She forced herself to turn away before Artis saw where she was looking. She’d be damned if he began buying her food. She scanned the crowds behind them.
“They won’t find us in the Dead Dog,” Artis offered. “They wouldn’t go near the place.”
“Who?”
“Hadley and Ida. You’re worried they’ll see you and make you talk about what happened.”
Natalie started to deny it, but there was no point. He was right, and he knew it.
“Oh, shut up!” She shooed away the approaching street vendors and headed toward the Dead Dog.
For three blocks, Artis strolled alongside Natalie as she stomped to the shabby tavern, his silence more telling than anything he could have said. Damn him for doing what he was told.
Inside the Dead Dog, they took a filthy table at the back, farthest away from the front window through which Hadley or Ida might see them. Artis got the barmaid’s attention, indicated he wanted two beers, then grinned pleasantly at Natalie as he waited.
“Okay! Fine,” she blurted out. “I’ll tell you. I was walking by the library late last night and somebody attacked me. I fought him off—end of story. I’m not talking about it anymore, so just stop looking at me like that.” Natalie pulled her hood down to conceal her bruised face. “I probably look hideous.”
Artis swept away an accumulation of leftover crumbs from the wobbly table. “I think you’re beautiful.”
“Art! Please!”
The young barmaid brought them their two beers in mostly clean steins.
“Is there anything else I can get for you, sir?” she asked Artis, barely glancing at Natalie. “Anything at all?”
Natalie sipped her beer. It was warm and flat.
Artis blinked. “What? I’m sorry…” he said, suddenly realizing the barmaid was still there. “Nope, we’re good. But thanks!”
“All righty, then. I’ll check on you later.” She tossed her hips as she turned. “Come get me if you want me.”
Natalie watched the barmaid wait on the tavern’s only other customers: two grizzled old men arguing over who the best adventurer in history was—one said it was Drake, the other said it was Sir Edris. As she took their orders, she kept glancing back to Artis, smiling.
“You know we’re just friends, right?”
Usually, Artis balked when she said this, insisting she just needed more time to realize how she really felt. But, after having been told the same thing almost every day for the past five years, the discomfort of her question seemed to have deadened. He lifted his stein and clinked it against hers.
“Friends to the end!” He took a drink.
Natalie slouched and immediately regretted it as pain flashed through her ribs. She whimpered.
Artis ignored it.
She stared at him.
“What?” he said, about to take another drink.
“You aren’t going to get on me for walking home by myself and getting beaten up? You don’t mind being friends?” Clutching her side, she leaned forward suspiciously. “What’s wrong?”
For a moment, Artis’s grin remained in place, until the will to maintain it seemed to waver. He fiddled with his stein.
“Look, Nat…you don’t feel the same way I do, and that’s fine. I want you to be happy. And if you’re happy with somebody other than me, then—” He picked at something stuck to his stein’s handle. “As for what happened to you…” He lifted a helpless hand.
Natalie patted his forearm fondly. Realizing what she was doing, she quickly pulled back. “If being with me makes you uncomfortable…”
Artis took another drink.
The barmaid cleaned a nearby table, eyeing Artis. When he glanced over, she bent forward, revealing more than a little of her generous breasts.
He turned his attention back to Natalie. “I saw your mom and everybody this afternoon,” he said. “Brought them a basket of apples and pears, and a couple jugs of cider.”
“Cider? It wasn’t—”
“No, it wasn’t hard cider, just spiced. Don’t worry, I learned my lesson the last time. Boy, did I learn my lesson!”
Natalie relaxed. Giving her mother hard cider would likely turn things from bad to worse.
“Thanks,” she said. “About the food and everything.”
“Hey, we’re friends.” He managed to wink convincingly at her. “Robbie and the others looked good, by the way. And, oh, that reminds me: my father said we’ll need to hire a couple more hands next fall. I figure Jonathon and Elisabeth will be old enough to help out by then. They couldn’t lift full crates or anything like that—not yet, at any rate—but John could certainly shimmy up the trees faster than anybody we have now. And Lizzy could get whatever falls to the ground.”
Jonathon and Elisabeth working! That would be an immense help, even if they only earned a penny a day. They all might be able to afford better clothes, or pay part of the delinquent taxes. Natalie wanted to reach across the table but stopped herself.
“Thanks, Art.” She stared at the brown beer suds creeping down the side of her stein, trying to hide the emotions flickering deep within her. “That’d be wonderful. I really appreciate it. I’ll make sure they work hard for you and your dad. You won’t have any regrets hiring them.”
“I’m sure we won’t. That’s why my father mentioned it. ‘If they work half as hard as Nat,’ he said.” Artis looked up at Natalie. “But I won’t be there. It’s time for me to leave; you know, go out on my own and seek my fortune and all of that.”
“What?” Natalie slumped in her chair. “What do you mean? What about the orchard? And your family? What’re you going to do?” She tried to master her shock, but failed miserably. “I mean…why?”
Three men in heated conversation sat down at the table near the dingy front window. One shouted for the barmaid.
Artis shrugged. “I’m eighteen now. Time to make something of myself.”
“But…the orchard?”
“What about it? Andy’s the oldest; he’ll get the orchard and everything else when my folks pass on. And besides”—he brooded at his beer—“I don’t want to pick apples and pears for the rest of my life. I mean, it’d be one thing if I ran some part of the business, but…” He gave a pained chortle. “I’m the fifth son. We inherit the dirt road heading out of town.”
Now Natalie fiddled with her stein. Artis leaving? That was something she’d never considered—never in a million years. Artis had always been around. If she or her family ever needed anything, he was there. When her father died, he was at the house for days on end, seeing to the burial and taking care of things that Natalie and her mother couldn’t bring themselves to do. And Natalie didn’t want to even think about how many hours she had spent holding him and crying on his shoulder—or kissing him.
He was leaving?
“So,” she said slowly, “what will you do?”
“Well,” Artis said, sounding a bit more hopeful, “I’ve saved up a good amount over the years, so that’s something. And I have skills. I
know how to brew incredible cider. Nobody can deny that. And I’m not afraid of hard work. Plus, I can read and write well enough. The first question I have to answer, though, is: where?”
“Where?” Natalie repeated, overwhelmed by everything. She absentmindedly watched a mouse scurry along the floorboards.
“Yeah, I mean, I have to find work somewhere and there’s nothing holding me here. So—” Artis nursed his beer.
Nothing was holding him here. Had that been a not-so-subtle gibe? Natalie didn’t know, but it stung, nonetheless.
“I…” she started, so awash in emotions, she didn’t know what else to say.
“Let’s talk about something else. Oh! I know!” Artis suddenly grew excited. “Have you heard about the kings’ latest quest? Four thousand gold! Can you believe it? Can you imagine what you could buy with that kind of money?”
Chapter Seven
Natalie left the Dead Dog Tavern, deep in thought. Although the eighth bell of the evening had just finished echoing throughout the valley, the winding streets still teemed with people, many obviously nobles who were headed to their stately homes higher up the terraced hillside. Normally, Natalie felt uneasy around people from the upper classes. As a rule they were always very polite, but in a subtly condescending way; their lips smiled, yet their eyes sneered. Still, after what had happened the night before, she was happy to have them near at hand. Nobody would consider breaking the King’s Peace with rich people about. The constables wouldn’t tolerate it.
Once she’d passed over the western bridge leading out of the city, however, Natalie grew more concerned. The woods in the valley were darker than the lamp-lit streets of Upper Angle, and cold moonlight slid eerie shadows across her path. What was worse, out in the countryside, nobody would hear her scream.
With her new knife in hand, Natalie walked slowly along the narrow path that wove into the forested hills, ears straining for anything other than the crunch of fallen leaves underfoot and the rumble of the distant river. She was maybe a mile from the western gates of Upper Angle before she realized she and Artis had never had their second beer. He’d planned it that way, she suspected. After their first round, he’d stood and said he had to get going. Probably didn’t want her to spend her own money. Bastard. Always doing kind things in his sneaky way.
Then she remembered what he’d told her about him leaving soon. Was he being honest, or trying to make her realize something? Natalie didn’t want to think about it. Her family came first. She had to earn enough money to feed and clothe them all, not to mention pay back taxes and rent on the land. If she couldn’t pay the lord’s fees, they’d be tossed out of their home, and then what would happen to them? She didn’t want to think about that, either.
Natalie climbed above the valley to the relatively flat plot of land her father had once cleared to farm. Since then, elms had begun to take over the pasture where their cow used to graze, and weeds now filled the vegetable garden.
What an eyesore.
Northward, lights from the city twinkled through a sea of nearly leafless trees. Now that was a beautiful sight! She loved sitting on the stone outcrops, feet dangling high above the river, watching the lights. This had always seemed odd to Natalie, given that she preferred the croaking of frogs and chirping of crickets in the hills to the shouts of drunks and the calls of persistent merchants in the city. And the forest’s earthy scents were certainly better than the lower quarters’ stench of urine and crap. Still, she loved the view—usually. Tonight, though, she had other things on her mind.
“Nat!” Hadley and Ida both cried, racing toward her. They had been sitting outside her family’s home in the dark, evidently waiting for her. “We heard what—”
They stopped short.
Ida covered her mouth. “Great gods!”
“Who did this to you?” Hadley said, reaching out to touch Natalie’s cheek.
Natalie slapped her hand away. “I don’t want to talk about it.” She stepped around them. “Go home. It’s late.”
Ida grabbed Natalie’s arm but immediately let go when Natalie winced in pain.
“Oh, Nat!” she said, on the verge of tears. “How…? What, what happened? Who did this to you?”
“I’m fine, okay? Go home.”
“We’re not going home!” Hadley replied emphatically. “Not until you tell us what happened!”
“No.”
“Nat,” Hadley said, angrily, “tell us who did this. My brother knows people—people in the Thieves Guild who’d—”
“Your brother doesn’t know dirt. Now leave me alone. It’s nothing.”
“Nothing?” Ida repeated in disbelief. “Look at you!”
“I’m fine.” Natalie attempted to step around them again, but Hadley blocked her path.
“No, you’re not fine. Have you looked in a mirror?” Hadley pointed to Natalie’s knife, startled. “That means you think it’ll happen again!”
“No, it doesn’t!”
Did she think it would happen again? All those years walking home from the city, and she never once felt afraid. Ever. She always figured she could lick anybody who tried anything. But now, here she was, clutching a knife so tightly her knuckles hurt.
“I mean it!” Hadley crossed her arms. “I’m not budging until you tell us what happened. What happened—exactly. No stories, no half-truths. Just tell us!”
Natalie carefully sheathed the knife and sighed up at the shimmering stars. It was late, and she was exhausted to her very soul. Moreover, she had to get up before dawn to be out of the house before the children woke up.
“All right,” she said. “This is what happened…”
Hadley and Ida leaned in closer.
“I was walking by the library after work. It was late. Somebody jumped out of the shadows and—” She gestured to her face. “Did what he did.”
Hadley gritted her teeth. “Son of a bitch. Did you see who it was?”
“What the hell was he trying to do?” Ida asked. “Why would he do such a thing?”
“What do you think he was trying to do? A man jumping a woman at night? Clearly he wasn’t after money.” Hadley turned to Natalie. “Next time, I hope you stab him in the groin. Cut his pecker off.”
“There won’t be a next time,” Natalie insisted. “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Then why the knife?”
“To make sure there isn’t a wrong place or a wrong time again.” Natalie started to head toward the house. “Now go home. I need to get some sleep.”
“Nat!” they both pleaded.
“Look, I told you what happened, now let me sleep. I’m tired.” She decided to milk her injuries, adding in a wounded tone, “And my entire body hurts. I need to lie down, okay?”
They sulked guiltily.
“Of course”—Hadley touched Natalie’s elbow tenderly—“we’re sorry. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
“No, we won’t! There’s nothing to talk about. I told you everything! So just drop it, okay?” Natalie’s shoulders sagged. “Look, I’m sorry. I know you two care, and I appreciate it. Really. Nobody could ever hope to have two better friends. It’s just that…” She glanced at the city’s lights twinkling like earthbound stars. “It’s just that I’m a bit—scared.”
Upon seeing their reactions, Natalie immediately regretted her choice of words.
“I didn’t mean it that way,” she said, quickly. “I don’t think it’ll happen again. Like I said, I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“But…?” Hadley prodded.
Tears welled in Natalie’s blackened eyes. She quickly brushed them away, hating herself for getting emotional.
“I feel so, so—angry and, and…” She searched for the word that described her jumbled-up emotions.
“Violated?” Ida offered.
“Yes!” Natalie cried. “And stupid! And weak. And helpless. And—”
Tears flowed.
Hadley and Ida hugged Natalie gently a
s she stifled a sob.
She sniffled, unable to look at them.
“Could you two go home, please? I’m sorry, but I can’t do this right now. Can we not talk about this tonight? Please?”
They hugged her again, careful not to squeeze too tightly.
“Of course.” Hadley stroked Natalie’s hair. “Tomorrow night. Let’s have dinner. Our treat.”
Natalie nodded, too tired to argue.
“Okay, then,” Ida said. “Get some sleep.” She rubbed Natalie’s back. “We’ll have a good time tomorrow. We’ll take you to The Log Jam!” Though she tried to sound upbeat, it came out forced and sad.
“I love you guys,” Natalie managed to say, and they all hugged a third time. “Thanks for everything.”
• • •
Natalie woke before anybody else, just as sore and tired as she’d been the previous night. While she dressed, she examined her face and side in the partly broken mirror hanging behind the door. A dull brown mark remained where she’d been kneed in the ribs, and her eyes were still purple and swollen. The worst, though, were the black scabs crisscrossing her forehead; if she lifted her eyebrows or smiled too broadly, they cracked and oozed blood. But at least she could move her mouth without a tearing sensation slicing through her face.
She examined her new knife.
Why did she waste money on something so stupid? She could’ve used the coins for the kids’ clothes or decent food. She caressed the knife’s keen edge. Could she actually use it if she were attacked again?
Attacked again…
Her stomach tightened at the possibility. But that was silly. Brago had clearly been drunk. Or perhaps he’d thought she was somebody else. After all, it had been dark in the alley and she’d been wearing her work clothes. That would explain why he kept asking: “Who hired you?”
Hired her to do what?
It didn’t matter. By now, the miserable bastard was probably off to find Balen’s harp, like all of the other lunatic adventurers.
Natalie stared at her knife and exhaled wearily.
Well, she’d spent the money, so she might as well have it handy. Natalie strapped the knife to her belt and considered herself in the mirror again. She still looked the same; however, the added weight on her hip felt strangely comforting, as though she were wearing a sword. Although why wearing a sword would feel comforting, she hadn’t a clue. She probably couldn’t even hold one properly, let alone use it. Even so, she didn’t feel as vulnerable as she did before.