by Lisa Henry
“Here,” Talys said. “Put your foot in the stirrup, hold the saddle, and pull yourself up.”
One or two of the men in the party snorted.
Min took a breath, followed Talys’s instructions, and more or less managed to sprawl into the saddle. When he finally dared look around, he saw Harry blinking back at him from atop his own horse, looking just as nervous. Although that might have had more to do with the human company.
“Talys,” Robert said curtly. “You ride by me.”
Talys shot Harry a sad look as she swung herself back into her saddle.
“She’s beautiful, right?” Harry whispered.
“Yeah,” Min said. He’d never seen a prettier death sentence.
MIN HAD never been past the gates of the city. Neither had Harry, and he almost fell off his horse when he leaned his head back as they passed underneath the old portcullis on Stanes Street. There was nothing dramatic about it. The city didn’t immediately stop at the wall. It fell away in dribs and drabs instead, crowded blocks giving way to space for scrubby grass to grow, for goats to wander and bleat, for lines of washing to be pegged up.
Min noticed the smell at first, or the lack of it. The haze of smoke was lighter here and gave way to the earthier and not unpleasant smells of mud and livestock. When Min twisted in his saddle, he saw that the city had receded behind him, those crowded, chaotic streets and alleys becoming something smaller, something cohesive. From this distance, from the outside, there was no difference between quarters, between streets or buildings. Min knew parts of the city well, and in close detail, but for the first time in his life, he had the sense of Amberwich as a whole. He saw the walls of the city. He saw the Iron Tower high atop the King’s Hill. Everything else had bled together.
He wondered if he would pass back this way and watch the city reveal itself piece by piece as he drew closer, or if this was the last time he’d ever see Amberwich.
THE DAY drew on. They broke the journey to eat at the side of the road, and Min took the opportunity to stretch his legs and momentarily ease the ache in his thighs, ass, and back. Fuck horses. Fuck them all. Harry stuck to his side like a limpet, only ducking off behind a screen of bushes when he needed to piss.
When Min approached Robert, Robert shooed Talys away. Harry turned his head to watch her go.
“We’ll reach Pran by nightfall,” Robert said. “You may stay the night and continue on alone to Anhaga in the morning.”
“How far is Anhaga from Pran?”
“If you leave early, you’ll make it by dark.” Robert’s mouth turned down at the corners. “It’s unsafe to travel at night.”
Of course it was. Except Min didn’t know what hazard of the darkness Robert was referring to. Bandits and cutthroats or the fact the veil between the worlds was thinnest at night.
“And people still live in Anhaga?” Min asked.
“Apparently.” Robert’s gaze followed Talys for a moment as she moved among the men and then fixed on Min again. “Though what kind of lives they lead, I can’t say.”
Harry jutted his chin out. “Why’d you even send your nephew there, then?”
Min felt a rush of pride for Harry’s nerve. That was the disrespectful little guttersnipe he knew and loved. He’d missed him.
“It was over ten years ago,” Robert said at last. He frowned. “The Hidden Lord hadn’t claimed Anhaga at that time.”
When Min was a child, the Hidden Lord had been no more frightening than the puppet show he’d seen in the street. A story and some songs. The fae had not troubled the world of men for generations, since the Iron Tower had been built. But then the Hidden Lord had taken Anhaga, and Min no longer laughed at puppet shows.
“Says something, doesn’t it?” Harry asked Min. “How the guy would rather risk running into the Hidden Lord than come home to his family?”
Min shrugged and smirked.
“Watch your mouth, boy,” Robert said coldly.
“Why?” Harry asked. “What are you gonna do? Curse me twice?”
And possibly that was just a tad too much of the disrespectful little guttersnipe Min knew and loved. He gripped Harry by the shoulders, turned him, and pushed him gently away. Harry huffed and stalked away.
“Stay away from my daughter,” Robert said.
Min didn’t quite catch what Harry muttered in return, but it sounded a lot like “Been there, done that.”
Robert scowled after him.
“Nephews,” Min said with a shrug. “It would help me if I knew something of yours.”
Robert shook his head. “He was eight when I saw him last. He was an odd child. Quiet. I paid him little mind.”
Min let his silence draw Robert out further.
“He’s a bastard,” Robert said at last. “My sister was unmarried. She died in childbirth. It was obvious from very early on that he was Gifted. My father believes that Gift would be better used to benefit the family than in service of the order.”
Ah. So Edward Sabadine didn’t want the boy to indiscriminately encourage crops to grow, or rain to fall, or the other nature-focused specialties of the hedgewitches. The House of Sabadine was old, and like all of the oldest Houses, its fortunes were tied to the land, to agriculture. Why should the boy expend his energies ensuring a good harvest for others when he could be doing it exclusively for his own family?
“His name is Kazimir,” Robert said at last, almost like an afterthought.
Kazimir.
Min felt a stab of sympathy for the boy and then turned to watch Harry tentatively patting his horse’s snout and flinching back with a surprised huff of laughter when the horse snorted. Min folded his sympathy away again and tucked it deep inside. He had no use for it when it came to Kazimir Sabadine.
THE DARKNESS was drawing in as they reached Pran. It was a small, well-kept village with just a few houses clustered around an unimpressive shrine. The Sabadines’ lands lay a little to the north of the village, and Min wondered if they picked up pace on that final stretch because Robert was eager to be on home territory again or because of the gathering shadows that seemed to grow and stretch behind them. Min kept his gaze fixed ahead, half-afraid of what he might see if he stared too long into the trees that lined the road.
The magic of the fae was said to be different from the magic of the Gifted, though both were weakened by iron. Min hated all magic. He had done ever since he was a child and saw a mage put a man into thrall for nothing but the crime of knocking against him in the street. The man had jerked and twitched like a cheap dancing puppet while the mage had pulled his strings. Min had heard stories, too, of the Gifted who kept people in thrall for years and years on end, turning them into nothing more than mindless, dull-eyed slaves. And it was said the fae could do in a heartbeat what even the most Gifted took years to learn. A hedgewitch might take days to summon a gentle rain. One of the fae could command a tempest with a single word.
Ahead, Min could see servants moving out of the manor house. Some of them carried lamps that flickered dimly in the strange liminal light of the dusk. From somewhere behind them, Min fancied he heard the echo of hoofbeats, as though unseen horses followed hard on their heels.
Min refused to look back.
His horse slowed at last, and someone caught the reins to pull it to a halt. The servant boy had a freckled face. His brow was puckered in a frown.
“Your foot, sir,” he said, offering Min his cupped hands to step into.
Min slithered awkwardly out of the saddle, the horse skittering sideways. The boy tugged it at a jog toward what must have been the stables.
Robert led the way into the house.
Min pulled Harry with him.
The doors were shut behind them, and the heavy bolts slid into place.
Min looked around the hall. Glass-eyed stags’ heads stared down at him from the wall.
“Decourcey,” Robert said, shrugging his cloak off into the waiting arms of a servant. “With me.”
Min and Harry foll
owed him into a small room off the entry hall.
Robert opened a narrow drawer in a bureau and pulled out what looked to be a scroll. He set it down on the table and raised his eyebrows at Min. “Can you read a map?”
“Of course.”
Robert rolled it open and jabbed at a point on it. “This is Pran. Tomorrow you’ll follow the road north. It will take you directly to Anhaga.”
Min leaned over the table. It took a moment to orient himself. His gaze followed the road north, and he discovered Anhaga settled in a sharp little bite in the wide curve of the coastline. It seemed so close, but then so did Amberwich. Barely the length of Min’s thumb away.
“And we’ll reach it by nightfall?” Min clarified.
“Yes. If you leave at dawn.”
“Then we leave at dawn,” Min said, glancing at Harry.
Harry nodded.
“We’re a long way from Amberwich here,” Robert said. “We no longer fall under the protection of the Iron Tower. The servants will tell you it is unwise to leave the house before light.”
“What’s out there?” Min asked and then wished he hadn’t.
“The people hereabouts are credulous and simpleminded,” Robert said, his voice even. “I believe there is nothing outside but that which is conjured by baseless superstition.” His mouth twitched in what was almost a smile. “I also choose not to test that belief.”
A woman appeared in the doorway and hovered there.
Robert nodded at her and rolled up the map again. “Show our guests to their room, please.”
Min and Harry followed the woman. She led them up a set of steps to their room. It was a narrow room but clean. The woman left them with water for washing and a plate of meat and cheese to share. She checked the shutters were secure and then turned to face them. She dug into the pocket of her apron.
“Mistress Talys asked me to give these to you.” She held up two little bundles of twigs fastened with ribbon.
Harry took his eagerly, eyes lighting up as though it was a love token.
“Rowan,” the woman said. “It will protect you on your journey.”
“Tell her thank you,” Harry said reverently.
The woman ducked her head and scurried away.
“Excellent,” Min said. “Twigs. I’m sure they’ll make all the difference.”
“Shut up,” Harry said, setting his tiny bundle carefully down on the small table beside their food. He peeled his breeches off. “Ouch.”
Fucking horses. Min’s chafing had chafing.
They washed and ate and climbed into the bed.
“Do you think Talys’s room is close to here?” Harry asked after a while.
“Don’t,” Min said in a warning tone.
“I wasn’t going to!” Harry insisted, the dirty little liar.
“Don’t.” Min closed his eyes and let his body’s aches and pains drag him into a well-earned sleep.
Chapter 4
THE VILLAGE of Anhaga clung to the cliffs above the coastline like a cluster of barnacles on a rock. In the golden light of the late afternoon, it looked almost picturesque. Gray gulls arced through the salt-sharp air, calling to one another in desolate tones. Smaller birds that Min couldn’t identify flurried from one rooftop to the next. The village seemed to be built along several steep streets that led down the cliffside to the ocean. Wooden docks bristled into the water, and boats bobbed in their moorings. Min had been expecting something more from a village caught in the shadow of the Hidden Lord. Something dark, disquieting. Instead, children played on the cobbled streets, and men and women went about their business just as they would in the streets of Amberwich.
In the town square—which in reality resembled no shape found in either nature or geometry—Min asked for directions to the inn, and an unassuming building with sagging eaves was pointed out to him. It wasn’t until they were closer that Min saw the sign swinging from the post above the door: three faded fishes fanned out like a hand of cards.
Harry waited outside with the horses while Min went to enquire about lodgings.
The taproom of the Three Fishes was small but pleasant. A fire was already burning in the hearth, sending waves of warmth throughout the room. The innkeeper introduced himself as Heron, seemed surprised that Min actually wanted to stay, and then sent his daughter to go and stable the horses around the back.
Harry slipped inside a few minutes later, lugging their bags. He was wearing his hood pulled forward again, to hide his curse mark.
“And what brings you to Anhaga, sir?” Heron asked as he showed them upstairs.
“We are traveling,” Min said.
Heron raised his eyebrows. “We don’t get many travelers up this way nowadays.”
Min shrugged and showed him an easy smile. “Ah, well we are not so much traveling as we’re taking account, as it were.”
Heron’s eyes widened. “You are a reeve, sir?”
“Yes,” Min said, because why not?
“From Amberwich?” Heron’s mouth worked for a moment before he found his next words. “Why, sir, it’s been over ten years since the king sent a reeve to the village!”
“Ah, but reckoning does come to us all,” Min told him piously.
“Oh, yes, sir,” Heron agreed. “Indeed it does, sir.”
Really. The deferential titles were coming thick and fast thanks to that one mention of taxation, weren’t they?
Heron flung open the door to a room and ushered them in.
“Tell me, Heron,” Min said. “I’m afraid our travels have left us a little saddlesore. It’s no urgent matter, but is there a healer in the village? A hedgewitch, perhaps?”
“Ah!” Heron exclaimed, eager to help. “Yes, a hedgewitch called Kallick! He can charm the fish from the oceans, can Kallick.”
Which, in all fairness, was probably a skill set very much in demand in Anhaga. And how amusing that Heron was so eager to push Min’s attention toward the hedgewitch.
“He is good with farmers too,” Heron said. “There was Gredar, a few years ago, who had a plot of land that refused to yield. The soil is very full of salt in these parts, you see. He asked for Kallick, and now he has one of the best barley harvests in the district, year in, year out. We brew our beer from Gredar’s barley.”
“I shall have to try some,” Min said.
Heron looked grateful for the reason to escape. “I’ll make sure to have some waiting for you, right away.”
He thumped off back down the stairs.
“A reeve, really?” Harry asked, raising his eyebrows. “Can you even count beyond your fingers and toes, Min?”
Min grinned and thwacked him on the back of the hood. “I had an abacus as a child, and everything.”
Harry looked dubious.
“My mother tells me I took it apart and tried to eat the beads,” Min mused. “But I like to think the potential for mathematical greatness was still there.”
Harry huffed out a laugh and set his satchel down. He headed for the window of the small room and looked out into the square. “This is not what I was expecting.”
Min joined him, his smile fading. “Me neither.”
They gazed at the square a moment longer.
When they returned to the taproom, Heron, as promised, had a beer each waiting for them. It was far better stuff than Min had ever been served in the Footbridge Tavern. They took seats at a bench by the door and watched the pedestrian traffic outside in the square.
Heron pointed out a few landmarks. The entrance to the local shrine. The shop that sold the best eels, both salted and fresh. Kallick Sparrow’s house.
“He doesn’t answer to visitors,” Heron said. “But you’ll find him at the market every morning.”
“Yes, I think we can wait until morning,” Min said. “Harry?”
“Morning,” Harry agreed.
Min was more interested in whether or not his prentice wandered about the town, but to ask would be to raise questions he wasn’t prepared to answer.
He watched the hedgewitch’s house for a while instead. It was a narrow house with two stories and an attic, almost identical to its neighbors on that side of the square. There was no sign on it to proclaim that a hedgewitch lived inside, but in a village this size, who wouldn’t know? The door was painted green, which might have been a subtle sign. It might also have been coincidence. The windows on the ground floor were shuttered. On the upper floor, a drab curtain swayed in the breeze, but there was no sign of life from inside.
A few villagers stopped by the Three Fishes for a quick drink, and their conversations with Heron seemed friendly but unremarkable. Min eavesdropped more out of habit than anything else.
Harry, careful to keep his right cheek turned to the wall, drank his beer slowly.
Dinner was bread, cheese, and fish, in quantities generous enough to overcome the blandness of the meal. Min was equally generous with Robert Sabadine’s money, waving away Heron’s thanks. Min rarely got the chance to play the munificent stranger. He quite enjoyed it.
“Min!” Harry whispered urgently at one point, nodding at a table in the corner. “That man’s pie is looking at him!”
The man was digging into a pie with gusto. Fish heads poked out of the crust, as though the fish were staring up at him.
“Oh!” Heron said, passing the table. “Would you like some stargazy pie, young sir?”
“No,” Harry said firmly. “No, thank you.”
Min couldn’t blame him.
At dusk, as though it signaled some sudden calamity, the square cleared quickly. Even the children hurried for home, the smaller ones dragged by their older brothers and sisters. A strange quiet seemed to settle over the village. Min watched, his skin prickling with unease, as Heron’s daughter carefully carried two small jugs of milk out from the kitchens and onto the street. She was back moments later, empty-handed. She shut and bolted the door behind her.
Heron pulled the shutters closed.
The last thing Min saw before his view was obscured was the hedgewitch’s curtain still flapping in the breeze.