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

by Tristan J. Tarwater

  All these arguments had been made in the weeks leading up to the child’s birth, the decision withheld from Sister Kella until days after she had delivered, when she was wracked with grief at the thought of her child being killed by the church she had served all these years. Years later, Kella had been sent to Tender’s community as a kind of retirement, along with the plate she had almost fallen victim to. The cultists, who had reorganized, would not think to find it with her. They church had been wrong and Tavera and Tender and everyone else had to come to the rescue.

  Tender shrugged, looking down into the cup with his brows furrowed, as though thoughts he did not wish to entertain had entered his mind. “I don’t know,” he said. “The priestesses seemed…I didn’t expect them to act like that.” He shook his head, rubbing the side of his nose with his hand, catching the eye of the bartender and signaling for two more drinks. “They seemed more upset at the situation than I thought. They seemed happy enough to have Fera back and but they were just cold to Kella.”

  “Most churches show kindness to their congregations. But…” Tavera’s voice trailed off as she thought about the right thing to say. She thought about the things Derk would say to her, how they would argue though they loved each other. She remembered Derk and Old Gam’s voices in the night, low and sharp and then other sounds. “People that’re close, they’re the ones who hurt us the most. There’s probably a lot of ruffled feathers between them.”

  Tender leaned back in his chair. Tavera tried to catch his gaze but couldn’t, the bartender-turned-rescuer tracing wet rings on the wooden table top with his finger. “She didn’t mean to get kidnapped by the cult. The church just wanted to put her away. Away in the Freewild. With me and Little.” Tender nodded as a server set two mugs in front of them. Tender watched the person go before he leaned in, his voice low and deep as he spoke. “Did you know about Kella? About the child?”

  “No.” She said it quickly, hoping it didn’t sound guilty. Tavera shook her head, running her finger around the edge of her mug, pressing her lips together as she did. “I didn’t. I mean, I guessed maybe something like that had happened to her when I saw Fera. But there was nothing about it in her journals.” Tavera thought back to all the ink-stained pages, blotted out with black and red. “I knew about Wing, in a way. Sister Kella filled in the rest.” She took a gulp of the watery ale, trying not to think on the torment Sister Kella must have faced. Again, the bottles of liquor the priestess drank made sense.

  “Why didn’t you tell me more about what was in the journals?” There was a touch of accusation in Tender’s voice and it caught Tavera’s attention, her spine straightening as she sat up in her chair.

  “I didn’t want you to get scared off,” she said. “Or overzealous. I knew you cared about Sister Kella. If you knew what might be happening to her, what they could do, you might get scared or worse, blinded. You had purpose. It didn’t need zeal or emotion added to it.”

  “Emotion.” He chuckled, his eyes growing darker as he looked down at the table, the previous merriment draining from his face.

  “What do you feel right now?” Tavera asked, quietly.

  “So many things,” Tender said, rubbing his face with his hand. “Glad we all made it out of there. Worried about Sister Kella. Disap--” His voice cut off. Tender paused for a moment, taking a gulp of his beer. He wouldn’t look Tavera in the eye. “I ran someone through with a sword. Because I was angry.”

  “We were in danger, Tender,” Tavera said.

  “I grabbed Little’s sword from him and cut a man down,” he said.

  “And sabnzbI thank you for doing it,” Tavera said. They sat there quietly, Tavera trying to grasp at what to say next. “You killed him so he couldn’t do anything worse to anyone, to me. I was unconscious, unarmed. Is that what you want? My thanks?”

  “No,” Tender said. He put his head in his hands for a moment and took a deep breath.

  “Well, good,” Tavera said. “Good people and bad are killed every day, Braxton. Killed by good people and bad people. For all sorts of reasons. Remember, you’re…you’re one of the good ones, Tender.”

  Tender looked at her. Did he believe her? Tavera didn’t know if she could say the same about herself. She didn’t feel like she could. It didn’t bother her to know it. It only bothered her that others might figure it out and try to stop her. Tender didn’t seem interested in Tavera’s goodness at the moment. “Are you doing okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” was all she managed to say, her voice trailing off. She took a sip of her watery beer, trying to fill the pit in her stomach. “Look, Tender. I came along with you to rescue the sister to help. Do you think I did?”

  Tender glanced over at her, pressing his lips together for a moment before he nodded. “You did. You got the priestess out of the cell, which I imagine you would have managed alone, had I trusted you.” He grimaced momentarily, taking a sip of his beer before setting his dark eyes on her, leaning in close again. “Do you even understand why I went in after you? Why I followed you to the bar?”

  “Tender, look, it’s behind us. I don’t care that you didn’t trust me, it worked out in the end, didn’t it?”

  “It wasn’t lack of trust,” he said quickly, interrupting her before she could speak. Tavera sat back in her chair, waiting for Tender’s mouth to form the words he wanted to say. “It’s, it’s…I was worried about you. You didn’t say much about your part in the plan, or how you were going to get the priestess out of her cell, just that you would. I know now what you are. A thief. Not just one of those people living by luck, traveling from town to town, going by their wits. I saw you take those things from Cyric, I saw you break open the locks of the stock, I saw you drive your sword into that man….” Tender shook his head, looking down at the table. “The look on your face….”

  “Did you like what you saw?” Her sarcasm seemed to dry her mouth and she took another sip of her watery ale, sinking down in her chair. Tavera narrowed her eyes slightly at Tender, trying to read the various emotions playing on his face. His brows knit together for a moment, his face relaxing as he looked at her, the same good face she had first encountered looking into her eyes.

  “I want to know you,” he said finally. “I want to know who you are. That is what I saw when you first walked into my bar, a person to be unraveled. You looked so mischievous and yet so sad, but sweet at the same time.” Tender moved his chair out and swung it so it landed next to Tavera, sitting in the chair backward again. “I mean, come on…I don’t even know your real name!”

  He took her hand in his and leaned on the table, a smile playing under his mustache. “I know it isn’t Point, it can’t be. We’re friends, right? We fought alongside one another. Maybe not literally but we just did this…unbelievable thing together! We escaped from prison! We saved two people from death and mutilation. It’s the kind of thing the storytellers go on about around fires, or priestesses wax on at prayers.”

  “Maybe you should work it into your sermon, next time you run vespers,” Tavera said with an easy smile. He laughed now and Tavera too, the two friends taking a moment to consider the enormity of what they had just done and the absurdity of how it had all worked out. Tavera watched Tender’s face as it grew more serious for a moment, and he squeezed her hand gently. He lowered his voice so she had to lean in to hear him, going along with his usual ploys to seem endearing, which was endearing in itself. “So, come on,” he said. “Tell me something. About yourself.”

  Tavera could give him a fake name, make something up off the top of her head and say it with a straight face and leave it at that. It would pacify Tender, but she knew she would regret lying to him and she refused to have things weighing down her conscience anymore. Would having someone call her by her name be such a bad thing?

  Derk had always said to be careful about who knew who you really were, especially people you were unsure of yourself. But Tender wouldn’t use anything he knew about her against her, she was sure of that, and
Tender was one of the easiest people to read she had ever met. The thought of someone’s voice that wasn’t Derk’s saying those three syllables, though…she shook her head, surprised to find her face was hot and her eyes stung as she tried not to cry. “I…I was born outside of the ‘Wicks. Is that…is that enough?”

  “If that’s what you’ll give me, I will take it gladly.” Tender brought her hand to his mouth and kissed the top of it before standing, still refusing to let go of her hand. “Let’s go find my brother and his new best friend, eh?” Tavera took a deep breath as she stood also, hooking her arm through his as they left the bar.

  Tender pulled some money out of his belt pouch, flicking it onto the bar top so it spun on its side when it landed, and smiled at the exasperated barkeep who had seen all kinds of tricks with coins before. Tavera leaned her head against Tender’s arm as they walked out, thinking about what she had told him, wondering why Tender was so patient with her, so adamant about knowing her…and why she liked it so much. She pulled away from him long enough to pull up her hood, another spring rain pouring down from the gray clouds.

  “It’s weird, them being friends, eh?” Tender shook his head, his dark eyes squinting as he tried to see past the rain drops to the street. Tavera shrugged against him, looking down at their feet as they walked the muddy road.

  “I guess it ain’t too strange,” she mused. Tavera chuckled within her hood, thinking of something Little had said to Gaela. “Though the joke he made about them two, what an idiot. I was shocked when she laughed at it. I thought she was going to knock him over for half a breath.”

  Tender laughed too, stopping under a stoop and looking around the corner. “True enough, my brother is not the…the cleverest. Or the best with words.” Tender looked up and down the street, frowning slightly. “Where did they say they were going again?”

  “The glass store,” Tavera said. She stood up straighter and started to pull Tender on the right course, smiling at him as he realized he had been going to wrong way. “Gaela wanted to buy some things with our reward money, and Little was going to help her with the bargaining. Why did she--?”

  “Good luck to her,” Tender laughed. Tavera led him around a rather large puddle, rain making it past the confines of her hood and splashing onto her face. Spring was nice but summer was better, she thought. Once the rains had washed everything away, the sun would shine and make everything green and warm. Sleeping outdoors would be more comfortable and though the days would be long, the nights would be vibrant.

  They walked by another bar, the music a band was playing sounding melodiously over the gentle rushing of the rain. Tender took her hand and spun her around, trying to seem dashing as he attempted to lead her in a silly dance on the side of the road. Tavera laughed, rolling her eyes at his antics. “If you want to impress me with dancing, you’ll have to do better than that,” she chuckled, still willing to dance in the street. He took her hands in his and bowed at the knee before he raised an eyebrow at her, spinning her around and pulling her close so her back was against his chest. Tavera looked at their fingers laced together, his face close to hers.

  “Will you come back with us?” he asked. Tavera pulled away from Tender, looking to the ground. The music of the band faded away as they continued down the street. Several children darted out from around a corner, almost knocking them over but stopping just in time before they darted away in another direction, their laughter warm despite the chill of the storm. Tender walked alongside her, easily keeping pace. “I think we did something good together. And if we work together more, we’ll figure each other out and help some people in the process. We did a fairly good job. We could do good things.”

  “You mean you could get us into scrapes and I can make sure you get paid?” She smirked, the idea sounding not altogether bad. However, the thought of Tender killing the man with a sword…she had seen it in his face back at the bar. It still bothered him. The thought of him accumulating regrets because of her was something she couldn’t tolerate. Tavera stopped in the street, forcing Tender to stop with her. It was time to come up with a story, and a believable one.

  “Look, this was a good thing we did, but I’m not sure I’ll always be of use to you. You’ll probably go back to tending bar and well, I get anxious sitting around. You want me winning all of those farmers’ monies?” She smiled at him, realizing what she was saying wasn’t a story but true. She couldn’t go back to Whitend. There was nothing there for her to do and as much as she liked hanging around his bar, it had been boring after a few days. Tender shook his head.

  “I don’t want you to be of use, I want to work with you,” Tender said. “I can find you something to keep you busy. We could…you could tend my bar!” Tavera laughed out loud, putting her hands in her pockets and continuing down the street, still laughing when he caught up to her. “Come on, you can’t tell me you want to flit from town to town, getting into trouble?”

  “I don’t get into trouble, I just make it and then flit off,” she grinned, walking faster toward the store. Tender jogged alongside her, trying to keep up.

  “Look, stop!” He grabbed her arm and spun her around, putting his arms on her shoulders as he panted, rain dripping off of his hair. “Look, leave, fine but promise me you’ll stop by before summer.” Tender looked up into the air as if he was looking for his words there, finally meeting her gaze. “Promise me, I’ll find something for us to do, us four. What do you say?”

  Tender’s eyes shone so bright and his face looked so hopeful it almost made Tavera blush. “Fine,” she finally relented, sighing. Tender wrapped his arm around her shoulders again and walked with her down the street. “But don’t go stirring up trouble just to get me to come along, I won’t have it!”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Tender said. They walked with his arm around her shoulder until they reached the glass store. Tavera didn’t bother to shrug him off. It was chilly and Tender was warm and he smelled good. She wouldn’t give it more thought than that.

  Bonus Short Story

  Little Girl Lost

  Little Girl Lost

  Tavera gulped as the ancient crone limped towards her, her eyes two points of shining black in her wizened face. The old woman’s hunched back loomed over her head, the shape of her body suggesting some powerful creature had bent her in unnatural ways. The little girl felt her heart beating in her chest as the wrinkled creature approached, the odor of spices and old sweat wafting from her. Tavera’s dark eyes traveled over the old woman’s small frame as the crone licked over her dried, cracked lips with a pink tongue as if the girl was a morsel and not another child up on The Block.

  I’m not scared, Tavera told herself, balling her fists behind her back. She mustered all the courage she could. If nobody picked her for winter work, she would be thrown out on the streets to fend for herself till planting time. Tradesmen came to pick up cheap labor for winter work. If she did a good job and didn’t cry, maybe the person would keep her on in the spring so she wouldn’t have to go back to the fields.

  The ancient woman finally stood before her, still licking her lips. Her dark, sharp eyes darted over the girl’s tattered clothing and body. Amazingly, she waved her hand to signal an attendant with great vigor, her shawl billowing with the movement hinting at great strength inside the sinewy, twisted frame.

  “Yes…Madame Greswin?” The tall sinewy attendant stood out with his albino coloring. His heavy lidded eyes gave absolutely nothing away; Tavera couldn’t read his expression. He held a formidable looking spear in his right hand, more for effect than use; the children up on the stage were usually too frightened or accustomed to The Blocks to try and get away. The old woman’s mouth curled into a grin, her teeth yellow and cracked with age. She cackled somewhat cheerily before turning her head sharply, setting them on the girl again.

  “So, you know who I am?” she asked, narrowing her eyes so they were almost lost in the wrinkles of her face. “Well, I imagine you know what I’m here for. How old i
s this one?”

  “We’re guessing she’s around seven or eight,” said the albino, looking over the wooden card Tavera wore around her neck. All of the information they had about her would be on the card but the woman apparently was illiterate or near-sighted. She reached out a bony finger and poked Tavera in the ribs. Tavera almost cried out; it felt like she was being stabbed with a knitting needle. But she held her tongue, and pressed her lips together hoping it would over soon.

  “Is she a good worker? What has she done in the past?” The pale man with the spear leaned over, his face somber as always as he read over the card, not bothering to look as the sound of a child crying out pierced the air.

  “Gleaning on farms, mostly…coal sorting, fruit picking. Did a stint at a launder.”

  “Ah, and her fingers…let me see them.” To Tavera’s horror, the old woman’s hand darted out and grabbed a hold of her wrist, pulling her forward and almost off the block as she brought the girl’s hand close to her eyes, looking over the digits. “Very skinny, I see,” she commented, squeezing one of the knuckles. The old woman licked her lips yet again, a bit of spittle landing onto Tavera’s hand. The girl half expected it to burn through her skin but found it to be inert. She wiped her hand on her dirty apron as soon as the woman let go of her.

  “Well, their kind do come on the lean side,” said the albino, sounding unimpressed as he turned his reddish eyes to Tavera, his face void of expression. “She’s part Forester, as it seems. Not sure how much.”

  “Forester, eh? I haven’t seen an elf of any amount since I was a girl, by her bosom! Ah, well, I’ll soon mend her leanness, I will,” the woman said with a cackle, reaching into the folds of her many shawls and pulling out a small pouch. The coins inside jingling merrily. “How much for her?”