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

by Tristan J. Tarwater

  Her boots sounded loud as she walked across the bar. Even in his bloodied state, Tender still eyed Tavera as if he wanted her more than the drink. She sat back down glad to see her pack undisturbed. “So what happened? The magistrate left and took all the browncloaks with him then?” A well-organized town with a decent bar and without guards? It wasn’t the worst thing Tavera had come across in her days.

  “One stayed,” Tender offered, raising his eyebrows at her.

  Tavera stared into her glass, thinking of Lori. She remembered the look on his face the night he had caught her in the middle of the take, the take which had ended in her getting into the Cup. Surprise in his light eyes, his dirty-blond hair under his helmet. His cloak stained with red. She remembered the feeling of pushing her sword into him, sinking into muscle, grating against bone. The pain in his eyes. Tavera shook her head, trying to push the memory away and wondering why the Goddess would sit her in front of another browncloak. Even a retired one.

  “Someone’s got to keep the order, I suppose,” she mused, not sure who she was referring to exactly. It could have been Tender. Or Lori. Or even Derk.

  Tender shrugged his broad shoulders. “I have the bar. And family. And the priestess to care for.”

  “Barkeep, priest, magistrate, browncloak,” Tavera said, wrapping her fingers around the glass and gulping it down. “By Her paps, next you’ll say you’re the chawing midwife too.” Tavera pushed her empty cup towards Tender, tapping it, indicating the barkeep should fill it again.

  Tender laughed and filled her glass again, nodding at the door as a patron entered the bar. “No, that’d be Gera’s specialty,” he admitted. “I don’t catch babies, just try to keep a bit of order so we can all be safe and lead happy lives.

  Tavera propped an elbow on the bar top and put her chin in her hand. She sipped from her cup slowly, considering what he had just said. “So you’ve no one over you, save the priestess. Just one priestess, correct?”

  “Just the one,” Tender nodded.

  “But you not only stay and serve the town, but you kick people out, if they don’t follow the old laws?”

  “I don’t want them to leave, Miss Point,” Tender said. He sighed quietly, pouring the contents of the jug into his glass, filling the cup all the way to the top and bringing the bottle to his lips to finish it off. He set the empty bottle on the bar before picking up his glass carefully. “I want them to stop imposing their wills on the people of this area, so the people of Whitend can make their own decisions. Tits,” he said, a few drips of the liquor spilling over the side as he spoke. He took a gulp, his lips wet as he pressed them together before continuing. “I’d prefer they realize cheating people out of their money, time and energy will not help them on the path to finding themselves. That it hurts people. Someone has to guide them.”

  Tavera laughed out loud, turning her glass in her hand as she stared down into its bottom, not able to keep her smile from being dampened by cynicism. “Those are heavy words coming from a barkeep,” she finally offered. It wasn’t the first time she had heard deep words from a purveyor of spirits but this was a bit much. She raised a brow at Tender, noticing his mustache twitched slightly, as if her words made it jump. Good. The half-elf brushed a lock of hair behind her good ear, dark eyes giving the tender a sideways glance. “What if people want to cause harm? What if that is their desire? To take advantage of people and attain their higher goals by climbing up the backs of others?”

  “Look, you’re obviously from the city, so I won’t fault you for asking this,” he said, the faltering she had seen there gone as quickly as he spoke. “Life is busier there and there are plenty of shiny things to distract those without resolve or convictions. But if someone is given the choice to get something done by hurting someone or by not, what do you think they would choose?”

  “It depends on which one is easier,” Tavera said, trying to keep her words steady and managing. The choices he presented were so black and white, it seemed unrealistic to her. “You’re making things out to be simpler than they actually are.”

  “So you’re saying people hurt other people out of laziness?”

  “I didn’t say that!” she spat. His accusation bothered her more than his previous statement.. Tavera hadn’t been angry at anyone in a while, not like this. The last person who had made her angry was Derk and it had been over some of her habits which she wasn’t about to change. Though Tender didn’t know it, he had insulted her and her way of life. It pricked her emotions. Tavera knew she led a life that left people a few coins or belongings short but she would never concede to being called lazy. It was hard traveling around, planning, avoiding the browncloaks. So was sitting still. It was difficult finding work she didn’t find boring or monotonous. Tender seemed happy to tend bar, or at least he had when she had first walked in. Why couldn’t Tavera be as happy at whatever she put her hand to?

  Tender looked her over again, the same way he had looked at her before. It annoyed her. Tavera wished she had another drink but didn’t want to ask for one just yet. “You can’t tell me you sincerely believe every single person on this earth would do what you think is the right thing if they could. What you consider to be right.”

  “I can and I do,” he said. He turned toward the back of the bar, pulling a bottle of beer from the shelves and uncorking it, setting it in front of her. Tavera narrowed her eyes. “All people can find their destiny, but it must be actively sought. Your path’ll be hindered by piles of bodies and people chasing after you. Guilt, fear, envy, all those things are man-made veils which hide who we really are. It’s basic doctrine.”

  “You think very highly of people.” Tavera brought the glass bottle to her mouth and took a pull off of the drink, the wheat beer a bit too sweet for her liking, but drinkable. Her words hadn’t been meant as a compliment, the tone of her voice implying she was giving him a warning. Tavera froze in her seat, hearing the voice of her father in her head speaking in those same tones. The thief swished the gulp of beer around her mouth and swallowed the thoughts down, continuing before Tender could give a rebuttal.

  “So that’s it, then?” she started. “Leave people to their decision making and all you have to do is bang a few heads together to help them on their way? Literally, knock some sense into some bad folk. I’m sure every single bad person will pass through for a mug on their way to their kidnapping and killing parties.”

  The man just blinked, his eyes focused on her, his hands steady on the bar top. Tavera guzzled the beer, wondering if he was going to charge her for this, but also waiting for his response. She hadn’t meant to make him feel stupid. His thought process was interesting and almost beautiful. Had she not seen and experienced half of what she had in her life, she could have maybe given him some credence.

  Instead she finished her beer and hopped off the stool, setting the empty bottle before him. Tavera tried to smile but couldn’t. A pang of guilt swam in her stomach. Tender looked at her mouth and then stared into her eyes, his face still managing to hold the same conviction in his gaze and features.

  “You are jaded,” Tender said finally, eyes still locked with hers.

  “I don’t know what that means, but you’re naïve,” Tavera replied. She quickly refastened the clasp of her cloak, her clothing hidden by the heavy, dark material as it draped over her slight frame. She pulled her cap out of her back pocket and pulled it over her head, tucking her hair away before she picked up her pack and slung it over one shoulder before turning back. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must be on my way out of your town. Orphans to stab and such. Old ladies to deflower.”

  “Where are you going?” The emotion in his voice seemed misplaced. Hadn’t they just been talking the morality of those in the Valley? Tender called after her as if his life depended on her staying. Tavera spun around slowly on one heel till she faced him once more. Perhaps she should work this.

  “I’ve already told you. Orphans. Stealing.” She let her face imply she was joking though
she spoke in only half-jest. She knew his interest was piqued, that he was curious about her. Tender was the leader of the area, religious and moral. This was probably the only tavern for a good stretch. It was just on the outskirts of the Barony, bordering the Freewild. She had just crossed the Freewild and had thought to turn south and see if she could find Lights. But she was here, now, with the ex-browncloak. The way he had asked after her made her want to stay.

  Perhaps he felt some kind of moral obligation to keep track of her, in addition to physical interest. Tavera never felt in the mood to have long, drawn-out conversations about the natural state of people and their destinies; she was more eager to find her own. Trying to convince Tender he was wrong wasn’t something she necessarily wanted to do either. But to have the unofficial leader of the area on her side might not be a bad thing.

  “You are joking,” he stated, brushing his hair back with his fingers. “There are no orphans who are unaccounted for here. There’s actually not much to do here except pass through. So, are you headed into the Wild or to the Barony proper?”

  “You know, I ain’t certain,” Tavera lied. Halfway to the door she could tell Tender was agitated. “Maybe the Green,” she said with a toss of her head. “I ain’t been in a while and there’s always something fun to do there.”

  “It’s dangerous in the Green.”

  “Didn’t I just say there was fun things to do there?” Tavera crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head to the side. “I’m not one to sit about protecting farmers.”

  “But you are one to help out in a fight, aren’t you?” Tender’s eyes glinted and he smiled somewhat knowingly, as if he thought he had hit something. Tavera laughed, turning around slightly so she could see the door, wondering if she should in fact make her exit or stay on. He had baited her, or so he thought. What did she want to do?

  “Maybe I just know the best side of a fight to be on,” she offered. This wasn’t entirely false.

  “The best side is the right side,” Tender said. A smile broke under his mustache, hope in his eyes. It made Tavera nervous. She wrapped her arms around herself tighter and leaned back toward the door, toward the way out.

  “I really should go,” she said. “Besides, if you succeed in your goal of making all the townspeople good, I’ll most likely be the one with a dirty face.” Tavera felt her expression grow more somber, though she didn’t mean it to. That was the truth of it. If she stuck around, she might wind up tossed out of Tender’s bar or town, or having to sneak out. She couldn’t fault him for wanting to keep the peace for the good of the people, not his pockets. Tavera didn’t really want to be chased out of town, not just yet. The thief turned toward the door, the thought of heading south in her head.

  “I could help you get cleaned up.”

  This was a little much. Tavera turned toward him, her dark eyes wide with warning, her arms still folded across her chest. She cleared her throat before she shook her head. “I believe the saying is, ‘She holds the torch but we must walk.’ Is this not true, Tender of drinks and destinies?” She smiled wryly at him. “It’s also a bit…stupid to assume I need your help. I mean, I was the one who smashed that man’s face in.”

  “Stay for a phase. You obviously want to stay, or you would have left before this conversation even started.” His eyes shone, perhaps with too much drink. The blood which had been bright red on his split lip was scabbing over, the bruises on his face and neck starting to turn purple. He looked so pitiful and so genuine in his wanting her to stay. What would Derk advise her to do?

  Derk would tell her without a plan she’d be blown anywhere. Best to sit and stew for a bit; thoughts are best simmered before served. He would wag his eyebrows at her and roll a cigarette too. Whitend was the first place someone had asked her to stay in a very long while. If there was no danger in staying, it would be better to figure out her next move within walls than without. She had come here in the hopes of finding someone from the Cup to help her; someone without any ties to her or an agenda might be better.

  “If I did want to stay,” she suggested, rocking back and forth on her heels, “where could I stay? Not a barn. Or a basement neither.”

  “Well, not to add another profession to my list, but I tend the inn,” Tender said. “I rent a few rooms upstairs. You could stay in one. I just got a vacancy.” The barkeep looked past her toward the door leading outside, the lack of moaning implying the men who had been lying there had left. “How about it?”

  “What makes you think I have any money?!” Tavera laughed, her amusement genuine. Tender looked at her quizzically. She caught her breath and wiped a tear from her eye. “You’re a good one, telling me I have to stay and then charging me to do so. Tits, I’ll be on my way, then. Toss off.” This time she really did head toward the door, disappointment pulling at her mouth as she put her hand on the door. Is that what this had been about? Profit?

  “No, wait! I mean….” Tavera looked over her shoulder at him, hand still on the door. There was a bit of panic in his eyes, desperation. He awkwardly pointed toward the stairs which most likely led to the rooms he had been talking about. “Look, you can stay in a room for the phase, no charge. I’m sorry, that was rude of me. It’s just…” he paused, his brows and mustache furrowing with confusion. “Well, how were you expecting to pay for your drinks, if you had no money?”

  “I always get someone else to pay. That’s what I do.” Tavera let the front door close and walked over to the stairs, a hop in her gait. Drinks and a room. Pretty good for herself with just a few words and breaking a man’s face. She looked at Tender and saw he was mystified. He didn’t look put off by it, just intrigued. How far could she push it? “I don’t ask for favors, I garner them. Now which room is it?”

  “Uh…third one, no…second on the left. It’s unlocked.”

  “And I assume your town has a bathhouse?” she asked, cocking her head to the side. “Ayilkin folk, former and current, like to keep clean, I hear? I’ve been on the road and I could use a soak.”

  “It’s five doors down, in the old barn, but it’s two blues for the water, one for each heating stone,” Tender said, furrowing his brows.

  “Well then, I’ve an offer you can’t refuse,” Tavera said, tossing her pack onto the bar top and opening it up. She pushed past the neatly folded clothes and found what she was looking for, tied in a pile. “You look like a man who could use a hanky. Always getting into scrapes, working up a sweat, hitting people in the face.”

  “Are you making fun of me?” Tender asked. Tavera smirked as she splayed the pile of handkerchiefs out so he could see the designs.

  “No, I’m trying to get you to buy one of these fine hankies so I can pay for a bath,” Tavera said, looking over the embroidery on the edges. “Good for mopping a brow, wiping up blood. Well, the dark ones are good for wiping up blood. I think this one, though,” she said, picking up one of the delicate fabric squares and folding it, holding it up to his face. It was a pale blue with white embroidery of moths on it. “I think for sheer handsomeness, this is the best.” Tavera picked among the assortment and held up another one, this one a dark blue. “This is the one to get bloody.”

  “You make these?” he asked. There was something much like surprise in his voice.

  “Of course,” she said. Tavera had stolen the fabric and Gam had embroidered them. In a way she had made them. “I’ll sell you both of these I picked, special for you for…five blueies.”

  “Five blueies!” he asked, laughing. Tavera decided she liked Tender’s laugh. He laughed a lot, even with bruises darkening on his face.

  “Alright, three for five, that’s my final offer and if you don’t take it, I will ruin your sheets when I lay in them, I will,” Tavera shot quickly, rifling through the hankies and pulling out a dark brown, almost black one with green embroidery of leaves on the corners. “Look, I’m even picking this other one, look how dark it is. That’s a long soak in the dye, better quality.”

  Tender ch
uckled, his laugh higher pitched than his voice. She would have taken the time to think about how charming it was if she wasn’t trying to make a few coins. Tender reached behind the counter and pulled out five coins, laying them on the bar top. “Five for the three?”

  Tavera handed the hankies over and took the coins, tucking them away before she put the unsold wares back into her pack. “Just don’t tell anyone about the deal I gave you. Never know how much I can make off the rest of them.” Tavera smiled and bowed, trying not to laugh as he blinked at her. Before he could say anything she popped up the stairs, taking them in twos and counting the doors before she opened the one leading to the room the barkeep had said she could take.

  Fresh sheets. A clean mattress, raised off the floor, even. A small table with a chair. The key for the room hung from a leather cord tied to the inside door ring. Tavera took it and wrapped it around her wrist as she closed the door with a kick. Country people knew how to treat guests, paying or not, that was for sure.

  Tavera threw her pack to the floor and flopped on top of the bed, the sheets cool on her face. She would sleep well tonight. It would be nice to have a pillow to cry into, she mused. She scoffed at herself as she sat up on the bed. No time for self-pity. She was just tired. Less than two phases ago she had been inducted into the Cup. Now she was on the opposite side of the Valley, wondering what the Hems had happened.

  Derk had been put in the Jugs. He’d told her when she was in the Cup, she would always have someone to fall back on, someone to help her out and it hadn’t been the truth. News of one of them getting pinched and they scattered like spring blossoms in one of the last breezes of winter. Even Gam wasn’t in Portsmouth. Tavera had waited around her house like a dog, sitting on her stairs, leaning against the building, shivering. She’d finally got sick of waiting and looked east and south.