Besides. It wasn’t every day that one had an excuse to travel north of the Rift. Realizing this was such a weighty motivation shamed her, but only a little. The only thing more important to Esta than getting out of Naruvieth was the safety of her family, and this trip served both ends. If anything, her feelings only proved that she had made the right choice in coming on her own.
With her thumb hooked over her belt an inch from where her knife hung, Esta walked out into the well-trod dirt path winding between the houses. She kept her pace steady and her back straight with a cool, disinterested expression on her face. She was a stranger here and didn’t want to give the impression that she was a criminal. Nor did she want to invite the attention of actual criminals.
As she passed the first house, she caught sight of a woman sitting on the wooden fence surrounding the goat pen behind that house. The woman was thin, the hands poking out of her long sleeves nearly skeletal, but the woman’s cheeks drooped as if she’d once carried far more weight. She sat on the fence with her knees spread like a man with her forearms propped on them, hands dangling. Her hair, pulled back into an approximation of a tail, was the same color as the dirt that smudged her face. She seemed to be staring in the general direction of the goats but not at anything in particular, eyes as unfocused as her jaw was slack. Her gaze sharpened when she finally spotted Esta.
“Who’re you?” the woman asked.
Esta stopped, studying the woman. It was hard to judge her age; Esta couldn’t tell if the woman was as young as she was or as old as her mother. “A traveler. Heading for Garoshmir.”
“On foot? Alone?” The woman snorted and looked back at her goats, which looked to be in even worse shape than their owner. “Good luck with that, eh.”
“I … was hoping I could have some food,” Esta said, cursing the hesitation in her voice.
The woman eyed her again for a moment before sliding off the fence and crossing the distance between them. “What’ve you got to trade? I ain’t helping no freeloaders.”
Esta drew a copper coin out of her waist pouch and held it up. “It’s a Naruvian stamp, but it’s money just the same.”
“Naruvian, eh?” The woman beckoned her over. Esta kept her thumb hooked near her knife as she met the woman at the corner of the fence and handed her the coin. The woman turned it over in her hands and looked up. “This’ll get a half loaf of black bread. Nothing more.” Her eyes fell to the purse at Esta’s hip.
“Do you have any dried meat?”
“Aye, and proper boots to keep you from catching your death. But only if you’ve got silver in there, too.”
“All right, a silver then.” Esta held out her hand.
The woman shook her head and pocketed the copper. “I’m keeping this, too.”
Esta dropped her hand, feeling her face flush in anger. She waited, but the woman showed no sign of budging. “Fine then,” Esta said. “A silver and a copper. But I want some information. Tell me the quickest way to Garoshmir. And show me what I’m buying before you expect to see another copper from me.”
The woman didn’t argue any further, but instead disappeared into her house. A short while later, she returned with a cloth sack and a pair of worn boots. The woman loosened the sack’s drawstring, allowing Esta to peer in. It wasn’t much meat, and the bread looked more like a quarter loaf than a half, but just the sight of it made Esta willing to part with all her money. She hoped she kept such thoughts from touching her expression. Nodding, she took one of the boots and pressed the sole to the bottom of her sandal. They would be a little snug, and a couple of the seams looked ready to burst already, but they would protect her feet from the dampness that covered the grass every morning better than her sandals did.
Esta pulled out a silver coin and held it up. “And Garoshmir?”
The woman stared at the coin as if it were more than she had seen in one place. “Two silvers and I’ll guide you there myself.”
Esta paused. It would be nice to have some company, if nothing else. The woman seemed to be shrewd and grasping, but Esta didn’t really think she would rob her. Not so long as Esta knew where she lived. She fished out a second silver coin and handed both to the woman. “What’s your name?”
“Meedith.”
It was an odd name, but Esta supposed her name might sound odd to people from the Accord. “I’m Esta. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Meedith merely grunted and handed over the goods Esta had bought. “Easiest way to Garoshmir is to head straight up the Runeway. It points straight as an arrow right towards it.” Meedith shook her head. “But that’s not the way we’re going to take, and you’re wise to avoid it. It’s crawling with highwaymen, and the checkpoint guards don’t bother with patrolling it much. Caravan’s the best way to go, but there ain’t no caravans ‘round here.”
Esta nodded as if all this were already known to her, but in truth she had strayed from the Runeway because there was no game or food growing anywhere nearby. Hunting in the lowlands around Naruvieth was second nature to her, but the Accord lands were just so … different, not to mention vast, that Esta had found herself more or less lost. It was only by luck that she had stumbled onto this tiny village.
Meedith jabbed a thumb over her shoulder. “I’m gonna put my goats away in the shack and tell Ord next door to take care of them for me. He owes me one.” Meedith shuffled off, muttering, “More than one. Three or four, more like.”
Esta went back to the forest’s edge to retrieve her pack and spear before meeting Meedith in front of her house. Meedith, her own lumpy sack slung over one shoulder, eyed the spear. “You know how to use that thing?”
“I’ve hunted and killed more than a dozen boars with this.”
Meedith snorted and started walking north along the path. “Boars is one thing. But they can’t use words. It’s men, clever men with their clever tongues, that you have to watch out for.”
Chapter 18: Clever Men
As night fell, so too did a deep chill that burrowed into Esta’s bones. The fire was hot against her face, her arms, and her shins, but the heat only seemed to warm the surface of the skin, not touching the night’s deathly cold that had wormed inside her. Anything covered up didn’t even get the superficial benefit of the fire’s heat. Every night Esta had spent north of the Rift had seemed colder than she thought possible, and this night coldest of all.
Meedith’s face poked out of a bundle of ragged blankets across from Esta. The woman’s eyes glinted in the firelight as she watched Esta’s obvious discomfort. “You would do yourself a favor to get a cloak, eh?” Meedith chuckled. “Me, I prefer blankets myself. The rattier the better. Cloaks make you look like you got something to rob.”
“Yeah?” Esta couldn’t keep the challenge out of her voice. “And what about someone with neither?”
Meedith’s homely face split apart to reveal teeth. It took Esta a moment to realize the woman was smiling. “If sense were coin, you’d look a beggar indeed.”
Esta harrumphed but didn’t argue, staring at the fire instead. She had nothing to say in her defense. She pulled her knees tight against her chest and wondered how Nina was doing right now. Was she, too, huddled up with strangers around a fire in this cold night? Esta knew she herself was willful and headstrong—she had spent much of her life being berated for this, by both men and women in Naruvieth—and knew she could rely on herself to some degree, no matter what happened. Nina had no such comfort. She was still a child, and no matter how caring and friendly a person Lora Bale was, she was no substitute for Nina’s family.
But perhaps Nina’s youth would help her in the short run, too. Children tended to be more trusting than adults, certainly more than Esta was. Maybe that trust would keep Nina from feeling so lonely so far from home. Perhaps, in time, Nina would forget that she’d had a family at all before Lora Bale came and took her away.
No. Nina wouldn’t forget because Tharadis would get her back. They would be a family once again. No matter who, or what, Nina turned
out to be.
Even if she destroys Naruvieth, just like fensoria have done to their hometowns in the past? a part of her asked. Esta had no answer. That possibility was too horrible to contemplate. Maybe Tharadis would know what to do. She hoped he would.
“You’re worried about someone,” Meedith said, startling Esta from her thoughts. She’d almost forgotten the woman was there. “I can see it in your eyes.”
Esta glanced up and searched the woman’s expression for mockery. But there was none. She looked genuinely sympathetic, at least as far as Esta could tell. “Yes,” she admitted. “Someone I care about is in trouble, and the only person I can trust to help her is heading to Garoshmir.”
Meedith nodded as she shifted in her bundle of blankets. “I lost a son, once. He was nothing more than a wee boy. Stood about yea high.” Her thin hand protruded from the blankets, held up the height of a five- or six-year-old, before disappearing back into their folds. Meedith smiled, warmly this time, her eyes focusing on nothing. At least nothing in the present. “Name was Nathan. He liked to cut switches and whip the goats into a frenzy so bad they’d break through the fence. A little bastard he was, but I loved him still. He liked to climb trees, too, and he often fetched eggs out of hawks’ nests and bring them home for breakfast. I switched him like he was a goat himself, but he just kept on doing it, grinning like a cat layin’ a dead rat at his master’s feet.” Meedith fell silent as her smile faded.
Esta inched forward and prodded the embers with a stick, sending up a cloud of sparks, before tossing the stick on the fire. Her spear was next to her, the sharp end pointing towards the fire but far enough that she wasn’t worried about it catching. She waited a few moments longer, but curiosity got the better of her. “How did you lose him?”
Meedith took a deep breath and let it out in long sigh. “Nathan had a younger brother. Called him Owly. He always walked around, dazed and big-eyed.” Meedith met Esta’s eyes and tapped her temple. “He wasn’t all right in the head. Quiet, he was, and seemed to look at things but not really see them. Liked to follow his mammy’s rules and always made sure everyone else did, too.
“Especially Nathan. One time, I said, ‘Boy, if you don’t quit crawling up those trees, I’m gonna set one on fire with you in it!’ I wasn’t telling truth, of course. I would never do that to one of my boys, but I wanted them to think I would.” Meedith shrugged. “So that’s why I said it. Didn’t mean much at the time, but I wish I never had.
“Owly heard me. Simple as he was, he didn’t know I didn’t mean true. One day, I saw him follow Nathan out once. Next thing I knew, the forest was afire. Nathan never came home. Owly did, had soot in his hair. Asked him what happened, shook him, even slapped him some. But he didn’t say nothing. Not then, not ever.”
“Where’s Owly now?” Esta asked.
Meedith stared at the flames, face still as if she hadn’t heard Esta’s question. Esta was almost glad for the silence. She hadn’t actually wanted to ask the question and didn’t know why she had. She could guess the answer anyway.
Bushes rustled. Both Esta and Meedith jerked upright and turned towards the noise. Esta snatched up her spear when she caught sight of two large forms, each bigger than most of the men in Naruvieth, lumbering out of the shrubs and darkness.
One of them, a bearded man with a battle axe resting on his shoulder in the casual manner of a logger, nodded in Esta’s direction as he approached the fire. The one crashing out of the bushes behind him stood slightly shorter with bulging eyes, grinning at Meedith. His gloved hand was on the head of a warhammer hanging from a metal loop on his belt. Both were soldiers, with matching uniforms, belted gray tunics with a single wide white stripe stretching lengthwise, mail shirts underneath. Matching gray cloaks hung to the turned-down tops of their worn-in brown leather boots. Their flat-topped helmets had noseguards, but the bug-eyed man’s was crooked, as if he’d been in more than his share of fights. His nose, bent in the opposite direction as the noseguard, only added to the impression.
“Good evening, ladies.” The man in front inclined his head to Esta, studying her intently. His regard of Meedith was even more intense. “I must say I’m surprised to find you this far from your farm, Meedith. Milking goats no longer suit you?”
Meedith was huddled down in her bundle of rags, eyes fixed on the bearded man. He stared back a moment before shrugging and easing himself down next to the fire with a heavy groan. He joined them as if they were friends and not strangers. But then he knew Meedith, didn’t he?
“What I wouldn’t give for a drink right now,” he murmured, combing his gloved fingers through his unruly brown beard as he stared into the fire. He glanced up at Esta so suddenly she started. “You wouldn’t happen to have … No. No, of course you wouldn’t.” He sighed and studied the fire again.
Esta wouldn’t share with him even if she had a barrel of wine. One brief meeting of Meedith’s eyes was all the confirmation Esta needed—these were precisely the kind of clever men she’d warned her about.
The other soldier stood back away from the fire, watching them with his bulging eyes. Meedith in particular. His gray cloak was draped to cover everything from the neck down, giving Esta no view of his hands, though his posture was taut as a coiled snake ready to strike.
Without taking his eyes off the fire, the bearded man said, “We lost a man not two days back. Chasing monsters. Monsters of the worst kind. It was … well, I just don’t have words for it.” He tugged loose a few blades of the damp grass at his side and held them out in front of him. “He just fell to pieces, right in front of my eyes.” He let the blades of grass fall through his fingers one by one.
“We had nothing to do with it,” Esta said. “Obviously we aren’t monsters.”
He raised his eyebrows, thick and wild, just like his beard. “Oh, no doubt of that. For you, at least,” he said, pointedly referring only to Esta before leveling his gaze on Meedith.
“Why are you telling us this?” Esta pressed.
The man shook the damp from his cloak. “I’m tired of death. So, I’d rather you quit edging toward that spear, girlie.”
Esta halted, fear rushing through her. How had he noticed? Fool, she chided herself. He’s a soldier. Of course he’d notice a threat.
The man turned a weary gaze back to Meedith. “And you. Off your farm with a pretty thing in tow.” He shook his head. “When will you ever learn, Meedith?”
“Don’t listen to a word he says.” Meedith’s eyes flicked between the two soldiers. “They may look like fine men, what with their uniforms and all, but believe you me. They’re liars, brigands, and worse.”
Beneath his beard, the man’s face split in a grin as hard as cold iron. “You wouldn’t be the first one Meedith sold to the Garoshmiri brothels, girl. The third, actually, by my reckoning. First one didn’t last two weeks before she was wearing the red dress.” Still grinning, the man drew a finger across his throat.
Esta tried to suppress a shudder but failed.
Meedith’s expression went from wariness to red-faced anger in the space of a breath. “Still you flap your mouth, spewing lies, Ander. Still you—” Suddenly Meedith leapt to her feet and sprinted away from the fire.
Esta gaped in surprise but only for a moment. She scrambled to her feet and snatched up her spear, but before she could bring it to bear, the man called Ander, standing now, chopped it out of her hands with a quick swing of his axe. The blow hadn’t touched her, but she felt it through the spear, leaving her hands ringing with pain.
Ander shook his head with a disappointed sigh as he slung his axe on the metal loop fastened to his belt. “Last time I help anyone,” he muttered softly. He turned toward the trees, cupping his hand by his mouth. “Lannod! You get her?”
The other man, Lannod, answered by dragging Meedith out of the trees a few moments later, his fingers tightly entwined in Meedith’s hair. When the woman tried to claw her way free of his grip, he simply tightened it. Meedith’s face scrunched
up in pain, her hands held in front of her as if she still wanted to fight but knew it was no good.
“Now, now, Meedith,” Ander said softly. “None of that.”
Eyes burning with rage, Meedith lowered her hands.
Ander nodded approvingly. He hooked a thumb in his weapon belt. “Now, just because I don’t trust you doesn’t mean I can arrest you. Not without more proof than I’ve got. But that doesn’t mean I’m just going to let you hurt someone, either.”
Meedith opened her mouth to speak, but whatever she was going to say was cut off in a sharp yelp when Lannod tightened his grip again. She blew out her cheeks she was breathing so hard. Where there was anger in her eyes before, now there was only hate.
“Take her home,” Ander said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “Make sure she stays put. And hurry back.”
Lannod nodded and began guiding the now-silent Meedith back toward her house. Esta watched them disappear into the woods, then her eyes settled on the bearded face of the man before her, heart pounding so loudly she suspected he could hear it too. She was distinctly aware that the two of them were now alone, with no one around to hear her scream. “What are you going to do with me?”
He raised his eyebrows. “With you? Well, I suppose it’s too late to take you to the Waystation tonight, so that’ll have to wait till morning.” He eased himself onto his back near the fire again, propping his head up slightly with a forearm while he drew his cloak over himself like a blanket. He took off his helmet, revealing dark hair matted with sweat, and rested his head on it before closing his eyes. “Running through the forest at night isn’t a good idea. There are worse things than Meedith out there. And I wouldn’t blame you if you don’t sleep, things being what they are and all. One of us should keep watch, and well, you’ve already decided to stay awake, haven’t you?” He cracked open an eyelid at her. “And if I don’t wake up tomorrow morning for whatever reason, you’ll find that the rest of the Way Patrol might not be so friendly.” He closed his eye again.
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