The Valley of Ten Crescents Series (Box Set: Books 1-3)

by Tristan J. Tarwater

  “I’ve got four, I told you. Five and four ain’t the same in the Valley yet, are they?” He looked it over. The knots were careful and tightly woven and the beads were a beautiful mix of black and white. “I mean, will it even fit?” he asked, holding out his wrist. “I’ll give you the four for the red one.”

  “What moon were you born in?” she asked, exchanging the black and grey bracelet for the red one. “What’s your line of work? Because-”

  “I know what red is for, Sister. Four for the red one,” he said, still holding out his hand. Pale brows furrowed on her face and she picked it up, tying it around his wrist. Her fingers felt smooth and tickled his skin. He thought about the book he had caught her reading last night but thought better than to bring it up. Derk reached into his purse and pulled out the four blue coins and put them on the table.

  “And what’s your name, in case I have more than a few coins and want to purchase an icon by yourself? Your work is lovely.” He leaned over and looked at it again, wondering how much they were. “I’ll say, this piece is by Sister So-And-So, isn’t it? I recognize the art. I’ll take it.” He wanted to smile but the look on her face made it hard to grin. Her disappointment was evident.

  “It’s…Arika,” she said. “Sister Arika of Three Pines of Ayilkin. I mark all my pieces like this,” she said, picking up one of the pieces. On the back the letter ‘A’ was written three times, the points of a triangle. “I’m…I’m glad you like them,” she said.

  “Or maybe you can do a new version of the Illustrated Workings?” he suggested, raising his brows. The priestess laughed. “I’d pay for that. Have a blessed day.”

  “May the Goddess hold you in Her Bosom,” the priestess replied. Derk walked backwards a few steps and almost fell down the first one, catching himself just in time before he turned around and went down the stairs.

  He didn’t bother to stop, just slowed his pace as Drink fell in beside him. “Giving it back?” she asked. Derk held up his wrist to show his new bracelet.

  “No, just thought I could use it,” he answered. “Spending the rest on a bath. You could use one yourself.”

  Drink laughed. “I guess you’d be the expert on being wet.”

  “About that,” Derk asked, lowering his voice. “I was wondering about last night-”

  “You’re not in yet. Though I don’t hate you,” Drink said, locking her eyes with him. “Just stick with Hock or whoever he passes you on to. Do what he says. Do your thing. Meet a few other people.” She nodded, slipping her hand under the strap of her pack. “Come this time next year, you’ll be feathered and not fluffed, and floating to boot.”

  Derk laughed. “You like crows, don’t you? You’re from Ayilkin, aren’t you?”

  “Most commoners like crows. They’re smart, loyal to their families, adaptable. Black as the night, they can hide in the Goddess’ hair. And,” she added, gritting her teeth but still smiling, “being from Ayilkin Barony, I’m more than partial to their sayings.” Red brows furrowed on her face as she tilted her head slightly with her question. “You the son of a priestess?”

  “No,” Derk laughed, amused she was guessing. He supposed knowing a bit more about his background was important to her, knowing what the Cup was taking on by taking him on. Perhaps if she knew more about him, she would just let him in. “Just in love with one.” It was all he would offer her right now.

  Drink didn’t seem satisfied with his answer but she drew back, stopping in the street so Derk had to stop as well. “I’m heading to the Holy Bowl. I’m sure I’ll see you again.”

  “I’ll make sure you do,” Derk said, with a bow, a bow too proper for the occasion but he didn’t care. The confusion on her freckled face was worth it. He tipped his cap to her and she turned and left, not bothering to look back as she cut across the street. Derk just shook his head and turned. The bathhouse was waiting. He’d have a bath and try to plan out the best way to impress Drink and the rest before the year was through.

  CHAPTER 18

  Finished Business

  “From your bed I’ve been turned, from your life I’ve been spurned, yet in my heart you remain. Though gone from my eyes, in my thoughts you arise, my love for you, Sindra, the same.” Derk looked over the verse, holding the lamp black pencil in his mouth. It was good. Not the best poetry. But sometimes the most heartfelt emotions were best relayed in small phrases. A grip of birch paper couldn’t hold all his thoughts and feelings about Sindra, easily filled with his requests for her to reconsider his offer. But hearts weren’t won with logic.

  He signed the letter, “All my love, Der-” He cursed. After all these years he still wasn’t used to signing his name and he had started to write an ‘s.’ Looking it over and considering the letter, Derk managed to turn it into a rather convincing ‘k.’ He added the vowel marks, careful not to smudge what was already there. “All poetry should have the vowels put in,” he said, waiting for the pigment to set before he carefully folded it thirds and then folded the sides, carefully fashioning the letter into the shape of flower. The customary shape for a love note.

  Derk took a sip of his beer and set both the letter and the drink aside before he looked at the second sheet of paper. “Cel,” he started. “I’m doing well but not good. Always busy and swimming as you say. I’ve something for yeh when I come see you next, shud be afore our first dance. Stay good.” He stared at the words, wondering how to close the letter to Old Gam. Derk missed her. He had left it out of the letter but he did.

  Derk glanced over at the letter intended for Sindra and wondered, if he could have either one of them sitting across from him, which one it would be? Intelligent, gorgeous and good Sindra? Or cunning, crass and boisterous Celeel? He loved Sindra, loved who she was. A woman of importance and conviction, who he could talk to about things he couldn’t talk to others about. She talked about Church policy, history and scripture with authority. She was kind. He loved to look at her to the point it was almost blasphemous. Celeel on the other hand…he could be himself in a different way with Old Gam. The Derk he always knew he was. She made him laugh and told him plainly when he was being stupid. Except when it came to Sindra. Then her advice was ‘Do what you want, you dumb fapper.’ What he wanted now was one of them on his lap. He couldn’t even decide which one he enjoyed sleeping with more. Each had their charms. Derk shifted in his seat and blew out his cheeks, trying not to think of either of them. He drew two crescents back to back and overlapping, the symbol for ‘friendship’ and just wrote ‘Myself’ at the close of Gam’s letter, draining his glass before he folded the paper in thirds. He scrawled their final destinations on the backs and then got up from his table, not bothering to push his chair in behind him.

  Derk shoved his letters and his pencil in his bag as he headed toward the lightening sky. All the carts heading out would be leaving through the East Gate and one was bound to be heading to Portsmouth, another to South-of-Downs. A bit of cold night air still hung over the city but the approach of summer put a hint of heat in the breeze. Derk yawned, eager to get to bed but still having a few things to do before he turned in.

  The bustle of carts getting ready to depart beckoned to him and he listened out for the locations and spaces called out by drivers willing to take letters or people to other locations. Derk helped a pregnant woman and her little boy up into a cart, handing them their bags before he bowed his head to them, listening, straining his ears.

  “Portsmouth!” a woman called, waving her whip in the air. Derk pushed his way past a guard and approached the woman, waving his hat above his head to get her attention

  “I’ve a letter for Portsmouth,” he said, pulling out the letter for Gam. He handed her the letter and two blue coins, one to get it to Portsmouth, one to get it to Gam’s door. He’d only know if Gam got it when he went to go see her. As his plans stood now a month would be the earliest he could get to Portsmouth. A letter would have to do.

  “You wrote the address on the back?” the woman asked. D
espite the chill she wore a sleeveless shirt. Her arms looked like they were made from ropes, strips of muscles stretching under skin and over bone. Her straw-yellow hair was tied in two long braids hanging down her back.

  “As much as I could recall,” Derk said hopefully. He had written ‘Portsmouth of Tyeskin, The Apartments above the Bone Carvers store on Blue street, second level, Celeel.’

  “Better for you, not me,” the woman laughed, putting the letter in a bag. “If weather holds fair, should be in Portsmouth in a phase and three,” she said.

  “Sooner than I’ll be there,” Derk smirked, tipping his hat to the woman, letting her go back to her shouting and trying to sort out the rest of the calls. A woman in grey robes caught his eye and he rushed over. “Where are you headed, Sister?” he asked.

  “Taking priestesses where they need to go, new assignments and all.” Derk looked behind her to the cart. A half-dozen girls, wrapped in grey and white shawls sat in the back, holding packs and bundles on their laps.

  “Will you be stopping at the temple in South-of-Downs?” Derk asked. “I have a letter.”

  The old priestess pointed over her shoulder. “You can give it to Darika back there, she’s assigned there.” Derk walked to the back of the cart, reaching into his bag. He was regretting having folded the letter the way he had. It was obvious what it was. All the girls were looking at him.

  “Which of you is Darika?” he asked. A girl with a round face and a slightly upturned nose raised her hand, her short brown curls spilling beyond the edges of her headscarf. “I’ve a letter for…the High Priestess.” He pulled it out and handed it to her. The girl’s eyes went wide and he heard the other girls giggle, one of them snorting with laughter. “I would appreciate it,” he said. Feeling bad for putting the girl out, he handed her two coins, hoping the extra would save her a bit of face.

  “Are you plowing the High Priestess?” one of the girl’s asked, a little too loudly for Derk’s taste. He avoided their stares and looked around, as if the answer was to be found in the air. He couldn’t think of anything so he just bowed to them and turned on his heels and left.

  Another errand before he turned in for the night. He would need his rest. Derk had planned a sizable heist for tonight and Hock was in town to help. But before he could do that he had to lay down a bet for tonight’s fight. A young man just kicked out of the Martial Academy of Gorskin was to go up against one of Block Lord Sunny’s better boys. Hock thought Sunny’s boy was going to win. While the fight was going on, Derk planned to pop into Ferix’s dye shop and steal a few packets of dye.

  Autumn was making its way through the Valley and Lover’s Moon would have people wanting to wear their finest clothes for the festivals before they went indoors for the cold months. He would save a bit for Gam. Gam would make something beautiful with the colors and her fibers. She had a talent. Sindra wouldn’t be taking him on for the winter, he knew that. It didn’t mean he couldn’t spend the night with her and get her something. Maybe a scarf this year, to keep her warm. Last winter she had gotten sick to the point she couldn’t speak except in a hilarious rasp. It seemed like a long time ago. He had kissed her anyway, not caring. Even after she reminded him she wouldn’t take vows with him. Derk yawned, a smile pulling at his mouth as he remembered her heavy lidded eyes, flushed, dark skin and slender fingers in his hair.

  The bar where the fight would be taking place was serving customers already, the front doors propped open with barrels. Someone was slumped in their seat at the bar, head on the bar top. Derk knew the situation well. He cast a glance about the bar, managing to not look surprised at the table of three browncloaks at the corner table, eating their morning meal after getting off watch. Last night’s beer barely wafted through the scents of toasted barley cereal, pork belly and ember cooked eggs. Derk hopped up onto the bar stool, feeling very tired. The bartender looked like he was about to get off shift as well. He laid his eyes on Derk, eyed the guards and then looked back to Derk, business written on his scruffy face. “What’ll it be?” the man asked.

  “I wanted to ask, what’ll you have for midday meal?” Derk asked, hands in his lap. “Just curious as to what I should have when I come back.”

  “We’ve got custard and greens but if you want something heavier, barley bread and rabbit shred made with dried fruit and beer.”

  “Those both sound good,” Derk mused, tapping his fingers on the counter top. The noise did nothing to wake the sleeping man, just quieted the snore emitting from him. “How about for now, an ember cooked egg and creamed beans if you have any leftover.”

  “Bread?” the man asked, pulling out a mug from under the counter and setting it in front of Derk.

  “Yeah, on the bottom. And just boiled water to drink,” Derk added. As soon as the barkeep went back to get his meal, Derk leaned his head against his hand, barely able to keep his eyes open. He pulled out paper and pouch, rolling a cigarette while he waited. Running his tongue over the edge, he raised his brows at the barkeep as the food was set in front of him. It was simple fare, the egg cut into slices so rounds of nutty white nestled the rich, orange yolks, atop white, creamy beans and brown bread. Tired as he was, Derk’s stomach gurgled in response.

  “Did you decide on midday?” the barkeep asked. Derk tried hard not to look at the browncloaks. The food definitely gave him something to pay attention to so he looked at his plate.

  “Yeah, I’ll probably go for the custard. Been in the mood for eggs lately.” Derk picked up the bread and took a bite out of it, tearing into the food. He put a hand over his mouth, talking through the mouthful. “What do I owe for the food?”

  “Four blueies altogether,” the barkeep said. Derk didn’t bother to comment on the price. It was one blueie more than he liked to pay for breakfast, but he wasn’t about to haggle when he had food in his mouth. With his free hand he reached into his pocket and pulled out the four blue metal coins, careful to sandwich the white lunar in there for Hock’s bet. “You’re new here, aren’t you?” the keep asked, tucking the coins away. Derk could hear them clink, the blueies in one purse, the white coin in another. “What’s your name?”

  “Eh, my friends call me Lurk,” Derk said, taking another bite. He’d have to come back and pick up the bet after all was said and done. If he was lucky he’d get to see part of the fight. Hock wouldn’t come around. The man who had taken Derk under his wing owed a bit of money but didn’t want to pay it back just yet. Hence why Derk was in the bar. The barkeep nodded and went into the kitchen leaving Derk to finish his meal in peace. By the time he had wiped the last smear of beans off his mouth his water was cool enough to drink and he gulped it down before he hopped down off his bar stool. He lit his cigarette on the oil lamp sitting on the edge of the bar top, saluted the browncloaks and stepped outside.

  It was too bright. Derk squinted as he closed his purse, his cigarette dangling between his lips. It was going to be a warm autumn. People were starting to get to work, booths popped open like mushrooms since he walked down the street just before his meal. He turned down an alley, noting the group of younger men laughing and jumping over some crates. Derk walked past, keeping an eye on them. One of the boys’ heads popped up, and called out, “Lurk! Hold up!” Derk slowed and then turned, sure to keep his attention on the small throng. These were streetsmen in training, self-training as it may be. They weren’t to be trusted but they were good to have at one’s disposal at times. He flicked a bit of ash into the gutter and took another drag off his cigarette, waiting to see what would happen.

  The boy named Shamsee stumbled over, pulling something out of his pocket. Derk watched as the boy with the curly hair and big brown eyes pulled a stack of cards out of his pocket. When the boy looked up and smiled at him, Derk noted the black eye. The boy had a knack for getting into trouble but always managed to avoid serious injury or legal consequence. He claimed his whole family was lucky, that his mam had birthed five children, of which he was the last. It was the biggest family Der
k had ever heard of but he suspected the mom didn’t have any brains left to give the boy by the time he was made. But the Goddess gives out luck at least.

  “I’ve a stack of cards here and I can guess yours. If I guess, you owe me a blueie,” Shamsee said. He shuffled the cards on his knee, several of them spilling to the ground.

  “Quick, Sham. I’m on my way to temple for a sleep. Gotta be up in time for the fight tonight,” Derk muttered, pulling at his cigarette one more time before he looked to the other boys behind Sham. “Any of you want the rest?” The smoke and the flavor began to wind its way around his brain, making his head swim a bit but not so much he wouldn’t be able to avoid getting taken by a pack of young troublemakers. The boys shook their head and kept their distance. Sham lifted his head, rearranging the cards in his hands.

  “Oh, you’re going to be there?” Shamsee said. His hands were dirty and his shirt sleeves too long for the weather. “I might go, if I can sneak in. I got kicked out of the Two Fisted a phase ago. Not my fault, mind you, he just got mad when I said the Skinner got sick on his food. Helping people not get sick on his food, you know, I didn’t say anything about his beer. The beer is good.” Shamsee splayed the cards out carefully, his tongue sticking out of his mouth as he did. “Okay now, pick one!”

  Derk reached out with the hand holding the smoke and pulled out a card, looking it over. His face fell and he threw the card into Shamsee’s face. “Sham, you chicken-brain, these are fortune telling cards! Get these away from me!” Shamsee tried to catch the card Derk threw and dropped the others in the process. Derk turned to leave, hearing the boys all laughing, most of them directing their ridicule at Sham.

  “No wonder I couldn’t play Four Are The Seasons with these!” Shamsee cackled. “Hey, you owe me for telling your fortune then! One blueie!”

  “Grab betwixt, Shamsee,” Derk called back, gesturing rudely behind his back and flicking the butt to the side. A peal of laughter followed him onto the main street. Derk patted his shirt and pockets to make sure nothing had been taken from him during the failed bit of showmanship. He still had his pouch and dagger. Ignoring the increasing hustle and bustle of the street, he turned down the side street and entered the temple through the backdoor, nodding to the priestess there, noting the cudgel across her lap. As always it was quiet within the temple, the soft notes of a hymn being played in the sanctuary. Derk made his way to the basement stairs, pulling out the wooden token given to him that morning in exchange for the one they had given him the day before. The older priestess looked it over and then let him pass.