by Ko, John
“Forgive me. They have been so kind as to host me while the Tour is in town and in turn I have been helping out in the kitchen. They haven’t forgotten you, though. They frequently talk about their meals at the Stew. Would you mind showing me around your kitchen? I would be happy to wash some dishes in return.”
“Sounds like a deal,” the innkeeper replies. “I have a garden out back that you may be interested in, too. I’ll give you a full tour once the dinner hour is over.”
“Before you go, I wanted to show my appreciation, also,” Rachel adds. “I was wondering if you might want the sign out front touched up. I offer you my services as a second-degree Master of the Long Brush. I studied under Master Glasgow of Middleton.”
“Really? Could you really do something about that sign?” Lene asks. “It’s older than I am.”
“It would be my pleasure. No charge, of course.” Rachel turns to the Half-Orc. “Would you be so kind as to help me take down the sign?”
Monster grunts his affirmation and stands, leaving only the little bard at their once filled table. Rachel asks Poe if he would like to join them. She can hear him still scribbling madly away. But the innkeeper has another suggestion. “Everyone else is helping an old lady out. Why don’t you play something for my customers?” she asks, gesturing towards a small stage.
“Especially anything by The Maestro. Did you know Lord Hardrime once stopped in here? That was half a lifetime ago, long before he became famous, but even then you could tell he was something special.
“The stage hasn’t been used in years, but it’d be nice to hear some music in here again.”
Poe bows politely and heads for the stage with guitar in tow.
To Rachel’s surprise, the Half-Orc is able to unhook the large sign without the aid of a ladder. She’s never been very good at judging one’s height by their aura, but the Half-Orc must be quite tall.
Monster heaves the huge sign over one shoulder and leads Rachel around back. She wonders just how many signs it would take to make a ship like Enyo had. As they approach the rear of the inn, the sounds of furious chopping can be heard.
I always thought Wake hated chopping wood, Rachel thinks, rounding the corner.
“If you could just set it somewhere clean and out of the way.”
The Healer leans the sign against the back of the inn, safely away from the flurry of wood chips. “Is this fine?” he asks.
“Yes, that should do nicely,” Rachel says as she feels out the area. “If I could ask for one more little favor? Could you find something form me to set my case upon?” He brings over a pair of stools.
“Thank you so much. You’re a real sweetheart.”
He mumbles something and heads back in.
“Boys, be careful, okay? Don’t send anything flying this far,” she calls out to the two who have stopped to count how much wood each has split.
“Yes, ma’am,” Wake says before turning to his opponent. “You have a quarter of a cord more than I do, but you started well before I did.”
“No excuses. I won fair and square,” the Fate says. “It is unfortunate that we ran out of wood. I was just getting warmed up.”
Wake hefts his axe over his shoulder and starts towards the woods further behind the inn. “I saw a dead hickory back this way. Those burn nice and long,” Wake says, trying to get a head start. “And do you really think that a true Northerner would ever let some beach lover beat him in a chopping contest.”
“What does a Water boy know about fire or wood?” the Fate taunts back, hurrying to catch up.
“At least I won’t have to worry about them getting in the way,” Rachel says to herself. She runs her hands over the sign to get a feel for her canvas. On one side is a faded drawing of what she guesses is some sort of knight on a horse. Easy enough, she thinks.
The letters on the other side are going to be more difficult, however. The original artist had a unique style, one that would be difficult to mimic. It took the first two years of her training just to learn how to make her lettering uniform in all ways, especially in brightness.
Rachel opens the large case with great care. Inside are five brushes, each as long as her arm. And though each brush is remarkably similar in size and shape, their bristles are of strikingly different colors. The chipmunk jumps down from her shoulder and scurries between her brushes.
“Please be careful, Spikey. Those are very valuable to me.” He squeaks twice, short and quick.
She chooses the black-headed brush and holds it in one hand while the other grips her wrist. Her first strokes are broad and sweeping. It’s not long before she is lost in her work—all lingering worries soon forgotten.
A final daub of red and she’s done. The round of applause that erupts surprises her. When did the boys get back? And Riser too … I must have been really distracted to not have noticed.
“Amazing, Shine,” the Captain says. Rachel can hear the whooshing sounds he makes trying to mimic her. “After the hundredth, will you teach me how to do that too?”
“I can get you started, but it takes quite a bit of practice to master.”
“The way you move your brush … it’s so graceful,” Riser says. “Can I ask you to draw something for me—when you have some time?”
“Of course, anytime,” Shine says. “I’m only proficient at the Large Brush, but I also have a smaller set that I’ve been playing with. By the way, who chopped the most wood?”
“I did,” they both answer.
“Well, it was close,” Wake admits.
“We ran out of dead trees,” The Fate says sadly.
“Good, then you two can take some firewood over to the baths. They’re running low,” Riser tells them. “Don’t forget to wash up while you’re there, too.”
“Last one clean empties the tubs,” the Fate proposes mid-dash.
“Are you really challenging a Water-User to a bathing contest?” The door closes behind them.
“I haven’t seen Wake like this in awhile. It’s really nice, especially after how serious he’s been lately.”
“It’s good for Fate, too. He’s always been the only boy.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah, him and four of us girls,” Riser says. “Which was nice and less stinky.” The two share a giggle.
“There were no boys his age in the Slate,” Riser tells her. “From what I heard, the older girls used to tease him pretty bad when he first got there.”
“Oh, that explains a little. He is … different,” Rachel says. “And what was it that you wanted me to draw?”
“It’s just something I saw once, but I’m always afraid of forgetting.’
Chapter 20
WAKE
[Stewards & Raiders Inn, Greenwood]
The night air tastes crisp and feels sharply cool against Wake’s flush skin. I’ll go ahead and empty the tubs after I get dressed. It should only take one trip with my gauntlet. There are no signs of the Fate as he enters the team room.
“Oh, hey, Poe, I didn’t know you were in here,” Wake says, finding the bard alone in the room. The fidgeting musician glances over at the towel-clad boy and quickly resumes arranging blankets in the far corner. “There’s still a fresh tub in the washroom. Do you want me to ask Lene for some more hot water?”
The bard shakes his head and continues on with his work.
“Ah, I was thinking of doing that myself,” Wake admits. “I can’t say I’m not glad there isn’t another joining us on the bed.” Earlier, the Fate found out the windowsill was large enough for his bedroll, leaving the bed to just Monster, Sensei and Wake. It’s probably the most comfortable bed Wake’s slept in since joining the Tour. Unfortunately, Wake couldn’t decide who has sharper elbows: Monster or Sensei. Apparently, the Half-Orc didn’t adhere to his vow while he slept and Sensei has the penchant for jabbing him in all the most painful spots.
“It doesn’t seem very fair that the girls get a whole half of the room to themselves. Fortune must be more
chivalrous than I ever knew,” Wake mutters, noticing the two additional dividers that have been added for extra privacy.
Poe reaches high and attaches a line to one wall and runs it to the other, cornering himself in. The little musician throws a sheet over it, creating a very private corner. A hand sticks up over the self-made curtain and waves as if to say good night.
“So you’re a private one too, huh?” Wake says softly, before calling back, “Good night, Poe. And thanks for playing for us. It really made training go by faster.”
The door bursts open and Sensei comes barging in with a wild look in his eyes. “Wake, have you seen Fate?”
“He’s still washing up, I think. Is everything okay?”
“No, not really,” the clerk says. “Let’s just say I never knew going to the bank could be an adventure.”
“I’m sure he knew you could handle it.”
“It was too close for my comfort,” Sensei whispers to himself. He reaches deep into his pocket. “I wanted to ask him about something, but maybe you could help me. You’re a pretty high level appraiser, aren’t you?”
“That’s right. I used to even write a weekly column on equipment and appraising back home,” Wake answers proudly. “I’m only licensed to appraise armor, though.”
“Oh, well, maybe you still might know what this is? I don’t know what to make of it.” Sensei pulls out a small, bronze rod.
“Wow, these are pretty rare,” Wake says, taking the object and inspecting it closely. “They used to be common not too long ago, but now they make much cheaper and efficient locks. See, it’s a key. There’s an engraving on it, too. It’s pretty scratched up, but I think there’s enough left to make out what it was.”
Wake holds the key up to the light. “No way!”
“What is it, Wake?”
“This is bad, really bad. I’m pretty sure that these three lines are the legs of a bird,” Wake says quietly. “This is the Royal Seal, which means it is property of the Royal Family. If we get caught with something like this, we could get into some real trouble. We’d be branded as thieves.” Why does the Fate have this? This key is dangerous just to be around.
“I have never seen it before,” the Fate tells them. “It must belong to my Old Man.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s the mark of the Three-Legged Raven,” Wake whispers as quietly as he can.
“Hmm … Now, just where have I seen that before?” Fate muses out loud.
“Two days ago, on a flag outside the royal tent. It’s the mark of the Royal Family,” Sensei explains in disbelief. “Anyone in unlawful possession of a marked item can get into really big trouble.”
The Fate dismisses their worries with a wave of his hand. “It is that bird, the one with the extra leg. Either way, there is no need to worry. If my Old Man had it … it would not have been unlawfully.”
“I don’t know. Even if he held it by right, it doesn’t mean we can. I really don’t want to be branded a thief,” Wake says nervously.
“That is not going to happen,” the Fate says.
“Maybe we should turn the key over to the proper authorities.”
A sleepy looking Poe comes out from behind the hung up sheet and whispers something to the Fate. He hands over the small bronze rod to the bard. “Daebak, Poe says Bards often receive gifts like this. He can safely hold it for us.”
“Thank you,” the Fate tells Poe. The bard’s lithe hand waves back as he disappears behind the curtain.
Sensei looks almost angry as he walks up to the Fate and asks, “Captain, why didn’t you tell me how much money was in that pouch? You shouldn’t have trusted anyone, let alone me with all that gold.”
“I thought I did. I hope I did not cause you too much trouble.”
“Just a little bit,” Sensei says.
“I knew you could handle it,” the Fate says, leaning forward and looking the little clerk in the eye. “Who should I have trusted with the task besides you?” Sensei looks stumped at the question.
Wake doesn’t really know what they’re going on about. He’s too distracted by thoughts of the key. It’s true that no one should question why a bard would have something like that. The wealthiest man in the world is none other than the King of Bards, The Maestro himself. Well, at least he used to be. But still, this wasn’t just the mark of any noble house. This was the mark of the Royal Family.
Chapter 21
RACHEL
[Stewards & Raiders Inn, Greenwood]
It’s too hot to fall back asleep. Rachel throws off her blanket, but then it’s too cold. At least Riser’s stopped grinding her teeth, but the strange rustling won’t go away. She can’t quite tell what’s making the bothersome noise, but it’s definitely coming from somewhere outside. I need my sleep. We have a match today. But after tossing and turning a bit longer, she relents.
The last thing she wants is for the others to share in her misery. So she dons her thick sweater and long woolen skirt as quietly as possible and slips out the door.
She expected that at least the innkeeper would be up, but there’s no sign of anyone downstairs. It must be earlier than I thought. There’s no one else awake except for whoever is out back. She’s pretty sure it’s the Captain. His aura was missing from the room earlier.
“Hello,” Rachel calls out opening the door to out back. “Fate?”
“Good Morning, Shine,” the Fate calls back. “You are up early.”
“I woke up and couldn’t fall back asleep.” She wraps her cape tightly around her. “What time is it, do you know?”
“An hour or two before sunrise.”
“Oh, then I really should go back to bed.”
“I have trouble sleeping in there too,” he admits. “After Lene does her second bed-check, I sneak out here and sleep on the bench.”
“Out here … in the cold?”
“It is not so cold if you bundle up,” he explains. “My blanket is on the bench. You may use it if you wish. I am about to start a fire as well. So please do not worry about the cold.
“Spikey, would you be so kind as to guide her to the bench?”
She follows the chipmunk’s squeaking until she finds the bench. There she discovers a thick, wooly blanket and gets quickly underneath of it. The little chipmunk finds a comfortable spot on her lap and curls up.
It is not too long before she stops shivering. “You’re right. It’s not so bad under here. You don’t need to start a fire on my behalf.”
“I have to make a fire, anyway. I need the coals and embers.”
“What do you need those for?”
“For the hole I am about to dig,” he says, lighting the fire.
“Why exactly do you need a hole and coals? And why are you doing it so early?”
“It is a secret.”
The flames crackle, filling the air with warmth and the smell of burning wood. Rachel nestles herself deeper into his blanket. It smells like outside. Crackle, hiss and then the sound of shovel scooping dirt. Today’s just another day. He’s not worried about it all. We’ll be just fine. He gave his Yaksok, she tells herself, feeling the warmth of the flames on her face. Having been raised in a city built within a cliff, the clean chill in the morning air is nice. She can almost feel the dew coalescing on one side, and the dry heat of the fire on the other.
Rachel feels cozy, even outside … with him. Crackle, hiss, shovel, sleep.
“Rachel.” Someone is calling her name. She’s back at home, and the smell of dank clay and mud and stone surround her. Water drips in the distance, echoing through the tunnels, and a fire crackles. “Rachel!” She takes a deep breath and it is all grass and trees; only the smell of smoke remains, and the voice calling her name. Wake? Rachel sits up and yawns.
“She is over here, in my bed,” another voice says.
“What?” her brother says, his voice filling with anger and confusion. Something stirs in her lap. Where am I? I must have fallen asleep. What time is it?
“Everythi
ng is fine. I kept her warm,” says the Fate.
“What?” Wake repeats, louder and full of fury. Rachel stretches her arms high above her head. Her blanket falls to her waist and she quickly gets back underneath. Without it, she can feel the warmth of the fire but also the cold morning air. Why is the fire over there? Wasn’t it on the other side before? She tries to remember, unable to shake away her sleep. What’s going on … why does Wake sound so angry?
“No worries, I consider your sister a good girlfriend. I made sure to took good care of her.”
Rachel almost chokes. “Excuse me?” she tries to say. The next things she hears are two quick steps and a loud smack. Poe, who must have joined them, lets out a little yelp before clasping his hands over his mouth.
“You stay away from my sister, you crazy freak!” Wake yells down at the Fate.
“Ouch,” Fate says, rubbing his chin. “You really are fast when you want to be, Way.”
“Be quiet! Enough of that,” Wake begins before his sister finds him with her gentle hand. Poe runs inside, returning a moment later with Esperanza.
“It’s okay, Wake, I don’t know what he’s talking about. But I just woke up a little too early and couldn’t fall back asleep. He made a fire and I was able to get some sleep out here.”
“What’s going on?” Riser asks, entering the yard with the bard in tow.
“I would like to know as well,” the Fate admits, rubbing his jaw.
“He said some awful things about Rachel. I had to defend my sister’s honor.”
“Oh, and what exactly did he say?”
“He said that Rachel’s his girlfriend and that she’s sleeping in his bed … and he was keeping her warm!” Wake explains, twitching in anger.