Out of Mischief: World of Change Book 1

Out of Mischief: World of Change Book 1 Page 3

by Gordon A. Long

  * * *

  It was very late, but a yawning servant brought them a warm drink. Relaxing in their robes, the two girls lounged on their beds and summed up their evening.

  “It wasn’t a good situation, Mito. I don’t know why, but it just didn’t seem right. Why did I do it?”

  “I suspect that you just got smart before you did something stupid.”

  Aleria sighed. “I have to agree with you there.” She leaned forward. “I’m expected to be good at diplomacy, and I really messed it up. Sure, he was an idiot as well. But I’m supposed to be able to handle people. Even idiots. Why did it have to go so wrong?”

  “Probably because you’re young and you’ve never had to deal with that situation before.”

  “Mito, you sound like a dear auntie, forgiving me my youthful waywardness. How old are you, tonight?”

  The other girl’s smile was even softer than usual. “I don’t know. I’ve just had the most beautiful evening of my life, and I didn’t get into any trouble, so it’s easy for me to be gracious. Can you forgive yourself? And will Kalmein ever forgive you?”

  “Him forgive me? After what he did?”

  “Are you being fair to him? Either you were in control, or you weren’t. If you were, as you just said, and you messed it up, then you’ve just lost a friend.”

  “Kalmein and I were never friends. That was what made it easy at the beginning, but impossible at the end.”

  “I see, I think. So you weren’t friends.” Mito’s dark eyes gained intensity. “But do you need to make him your enemy?”

  She thought a moment, then nodded. “When you put it in that perspective, no. The next time I see him I will attempt to make amends. Is that good enough?”

  Mito smiled. “You’re not doing it for me.”

  Aleria stared at her friend for a moment. “Did you realize that you were one of the most beautiful girls there tonight?”

  There was a stunned silence. “What are you talking about?”

  “You were. No, not the prettiest. The most beautiful. I’m pretty; I know that. But I looked at you, and you were beautiful. Trien noticed it too. I know he did. He just didn’t dare do anything about it.”

  “Why would you say a thing like that?”

  “Because it’s true. Why shouldn’t you know it?”

  Mito flung up her hands in surrender. “All right. You said it because it’s true. Thank you. It means a lot to me to hear that you think it’s true.” Her hands dropped, and a smile quirked her lips. “And also because it got us off a topic that was uncomfortable to you.”

  It was Aleria’s turn to surrender. “I should have known better than to try that with you. You must admit, it worked for a while.”

  Her friend laughed. “I guess.”

  Aleria placed a hand on the other girl’s shoulder. “You still were beautiful. Don’t ever forget that.”

  Mito shook her head. “If you say so.”

  “Oh, but I do! And some day I’m going to make you believe it, too.”

  7. Quest

  In spite of her pose of disdain, Aleria felt a certain amount of jumpiness in her movements on Quest Morning that no amount of willpower could control. The ceremony was simple, and the girls then climbed into the plain, hired carriages, each anxious for her own reasons to get away from the crowd. Aleria sat back on the lumpy upholstery watching the outside scenery, her mind on other things. She had drawn a longer trip to her starting point than most. Abret was a small transport hub to the south of the Goncelin River, which flowed in from the western mountains. It occurred to her to wonder how arbitrary the choices were. Would they have given her Quest to a mama’s girl like Envelune? She thought about the other two girls sharing her ride. Both were competent, but not brilliant. They gossiped away, and she was glad that they would be getting out within the next few hours. Today of all days was not a time for chitchat.

  Not that it was going to be too difficult. She might have to save a bit of extra cash for a ferry crossing or two, but her assigned route, like all the others, lay through populated farming country with enough small towns an easy day’s walk apart to provide accommodation every night.

  She took out her map. There was a short, probably low, spur jutting out of the western mountain range that she would have to detour around, but that was all. She wondered about the possibility of cutting across the hills. Probably slower than going around, if there was no road. Better to stick to the populated areas. Still, she would keep an open mind until she saw the terrain. Much dryer and more open than the forest they were driving through, if she remembered her Geography lessons. She leaned back, closing her eyes. Now that she was on the way the tension in her eased, and she could make up for the sleep she had lost the night before.

  She awoke twice, each time to wish one of the other Questers luck as the girl descended, wide-eyed and breathing quickly, into the central square of a strange western village. A glance back, a wave, and each was gone, standing in the middle of the open space with her pack beside her, vulnerable and small.

  Once Aleria was alone, her sleepiness left her. She banged on the carriage wall and asked the driver permission to ride up top with him. The lean, leathery man granted it willingly, pleased to share the boredom of his job with a willing ear.

  In between his far-fetched but entertaining stories she was able to squeeze out a few drops of reliable information. He travelled this route often and knew the country well.

  His comment on the mountains was both optimistic and discouraging.

  “Sure, there’s paths through there. Lots of ‘em. Too many, if you’re thinkin’ of cuttin’ across. If you don’t know your way, you could end up losin’ more time than you’d save. Why I mind once…” and he was off again on another of his stories. He couldn’t know that her interest was not for his exciting exploits but for the morsels of factual information that dropped through the mass of questionable plot.

  By the time they reached Abret it was past mid-afternoon, but the driver was turning around immediately. “Oh, I’ll get back down to Valencone before dark, no problem.” He winked. “I let the ponies loose a bit when there’s no passengers.” Then he became serious. “You’re better to stay here the night, though. The first place to the north is Charavin. That’d be, I don’t know, maybe two hour’s walk. Best to rest up and get a nice fresh start in the morning.”

  Smiling, she thanked him, tipped him the traditional coin and watched him whip up his team and head east. She looked around. Not a bad town, but no place to spend a quiet evening. There must be two hours of daylight left. If it got too dark she could always camp. Shouldering her pack, she took the road north.

  It felt good to be moving, after the long day in the carriage, but she was careful to keep a good watch all around her as she had been taught. The street had been almost deserted when she had arrived, and she was sure that few people had watched her leave. It was better that way. The sooner she slipped into the anonymity of the road, the better. She had chosen her clothing with great care – sensible shoes, medium brown, calf-length dress with a short jacket - and felt that she looked much less like a rich girl in costume than most of the others. Except Mito, of course, who seemed so comfortable in her outfit that it could almost be her own clothing, although Aleria had never seen her friend dressed like that. Aleria’s one concession to comfort was a thick woollen cloak with a hood, which cushioned the bottom of her pack, ready to hand for a rainy day or a cold night camping out.

  Charavin was an easy stroll along level terrain in the cooler part of the afternoon. As she approached, she decided that it was even smaller than Abret. She wondered if there would be a decent inn, then caught herself. She didn’t want what her friends would call a decent inn. She wanted a cheap, safe, preferably clean place to sleep; that was all. With this objective in mind, she looked around.

  In the main square, if you could call it that, there was one fair-sized place, almost as large as the two-storey, half-timber building beside it
that must serve as the town hall. Sure enough, when she asked, it was twice what she could afford, and she left with regret. It had looked very comfortable.

  There were just two side streets, one lined with more prosperous houses, the other deteriorating towards sheds and stock pens. She took the first, but found nothing. Returning to the lower street, she started along carefully, trying to keep her eyes wide, assessing the nature of the people she saw. To her inexperienced eye there seemed nothing threatening, so she continued.

  A sign so small she might have missed it caught her attention by creaking in the breeze that warned her she was getting too close to the stockyards for comfort. No words, just a crudely painted bed. The house was a low place with tiny, deep-set windows and dormers peeking through a shaggy roof. She knew about thatch - full of vermin and not always waterproof - but she had to try.

  To her surprise, she entered a common room that was neatly swept, if not exactly spotless. The furniture and walls were dark with age, the ceiling blackened above the fireplace. There was no one present, so she shut the door firmly. Immediately a small head popped around the door behind the bar, then disappeared.

  “Maw! There’s som’un here!”

  “I’m coming in a moment. You go out and do what you’re supposed to.”

  “All right.”

  The figure reappeared, straightening her dress and smoothing her hair. She reached the bar and stopped, her chin just above the plank top. Reconsidering, she hopped aside, dragged a bench over, and jumped up. Taller now, she stood, placed her hands on the bar with a studied gesture, and leaned forward.

  “Good evening, Miss. What can we do for you?”

  Aleria smiled across into the perky eyes. “I’m looking for a place to spend the night.”

  “I believe we might accommodate you. Will it be just yourself?”

  Aleria kept her face serious. “Just me. What sort of rooms do you have, and what do they cost?”

  A slight frown wrinkled the diminutive brow. “Let me see. I think the upstairs left would do. The price? Now let me see.” A rather grubby set of fingers tugged a straw-blonde pigtail. Then the girl shot Aleria a shrewd glance. “What were you expecting to pay?”

  So it was going to be a bit of a game. “Well, I don’t have that much. I was sort of hoping to find a nice, clean room, it wouldn’t have to be too big, for about half a crown.” She watched, noted the girl’s reaction. “With supper included, of course.”

  The girl retained her poise, but her eyes were jumping. “I’m afraid I’ll have to check that with the propri…etress. Just wait here a moment, if you please.” A flash of flying braids, and the “innkeeper” disappeared round the doorpost. After a patter of hurried feet, she could hear a jumble of whispers, coming closer and getting louder. Finally the girl reappeared, a small, stout woman in tow.

  “Now, Mirette. What kind of a lady do you say…” The woman stopped, looked Aleria over, seemed to look again. “Oh. I see.”

  She stepped forward smiling. “Good to see you here, young lady. I’m sorry I couldn’t be out to greet you.”

  Aleria nodded in return. “Oh, your assistant did an admirable job. Would you have a room at that price?”

  The woman shook her head. “Not a room for one person. I think you’d have better luck finding your sort of room back up near the square.”

  “I already looked up there. The inn on the square was much too expensive. I want something a bit plainer, I’m afraid.”

  “Oh. We…we don’t have too many places in town…”

  She wondered why the woman hesitated. “Well, then, what kind of room do you have, and what is the price? I don’t have to have supper.”

  Then the woman smiled in realization. “No, no. I don’t mean that. I mean… well, our rooms with supper are a quarter crown. With breakfast in the morning, and a good one, if I say so myself, who cooks it.”

  “I guess I should take a look at this room, then.”

  “If you wish. Right this way.”

  There was a harsh whisper. The woman leaned her head down to listen, then nodded. They started up the stairs, the small girl leading the way with her head up, her braids bobbing. At the top, the hallway was close under the ceiling, as high as a tall man. The girl turned down the short passage and threw open an even lower door.

  “This way, if you please.”

  Sharing a hidden smile with the mother, she ducked into the room. It was small and the ceiling sloped to halfway down the window, but the floor was swept and the coverlet on the bed looked clean. Not that it mattered, since she could always wrap up in her cloak. Her small hostess turned down the cover and bounced on the bed, which seemed firm enough for her weight at least.

  “So what do you think, Miss?”

  Getting a confirming nod from the mother, she turned to the young hostess. “The room seems fine. Now, what about supper?”

  “The supper will be fine, of course. We have a very good cook.”

  “And what’s on the menu?”

  “I will consult. Mother?”

  “Stew and bread, just like you helped me put on the hearth an hour past.”

  With a look of disgust for her mother’s lack of discretion, the girl turned to Aleria. “My mother’s stew is always very good. Plenty of big meat chunks, and the vegetables cooked just right, not all mush like some people make. She is also a dab hand with the spices.” This last must be a quote from somewhere, and Aleria again had to fight to keep a straight face.

  “It sounds great to me. I think I’ll stay.”

  The girl’s eyes sparkled, and it looked as if she could hardly keep her feet still. “Very good. A quarter crown, then.” She looked to her mother, received some sort of prompt. “And what name shall I put down, Miss?”

  “Aleria…Aleria Dalmyn.

  With a glance to her mother to make sure that someone would help her with the spelling, the little girl skipped out of the room, leaving the two women helpless with suppressed laughter.

  The mother found breath to speak. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Dalmyn. I’m Tamina Bouchage, and your elegant hostess is Mirette, my daughter.

  “She’s doing a fine job.”

  The mother held her hands in a helpless gesture. “She’s nine.”

  “Well, she’ll be a formidable assistant when she hits twenty.”

  The mother smiled. “I’ll leave you to settle in, then.” She indicated the wash table and basin. “I’ll send Mirette up with water so you can get the road dust off. Have you come far today?”

  “Only from Abret. I started late.”

  “Ah.” From the tone, it seemed that this explained something. The woman turned in the doorway. “You can eat any time after you wash. No need to rush, though. Supper won’t be busy tonight. Just a few regulars.”

  The woman left, and Aleria was alone in her room. She investigated as she had been taught, checking the window for security as well as use for a fire escape. No problem there. It was too small for anyone dangerous to get in without a fuss, but large enough for her to get out and slide down the thatch to where it came within her own height of the ground. Satisfied with the window, she tested the bed. It was solid enough; it had no springs, only boards with a straw mattress. The coverlet and sheet were clean, but she knew she would be happy to have everything beneath her for padding and use her own blanket next her skin.

  She lay back on the bed, gazing around the little room. Not too bad a start. Probably lucky, though. Take the same space, give it several months of bad management, and it would become a foul hole. She doubted if many establishments at this price were this clean. Going on the basis that nothing was ever perfect, she glanced around. The inside latch on the door looked sturdy enough, but there was no lock, so she would have to take her valuables with her. Not a serious problem, as she was well prepared, with a hidden pocket for money and an inner purse in her coat.

  So she had offered too much the first time. Well, an understandable mistake,
one that she wouldn’t repeat. At a quarter crown, she could afford places like this for most of the trip.

  She was interrupted in her musings by a knock on the door, and the straw-haired girl staggered in, a jug of water steaming in her hands. She was barely able to lift it to the tabletop, but she managed. Then she stood back proudly. “Will there be anything else, Miss Dalmyn?”

  “Do you usually supply towels?”

  Uncertainty clouded the brow. “I don’t think so, Miss. Would you like me to check?”

  “No, I’m sure that if you did, there would be one here. I have my own. That’s all I need. Thank you very much, and tell your… tell the kitchen I’ll be down for supper in a moment.”

  The lips were working, and Aleria realized that the girl was trying the phrase “Tell the kitchen” a few times. She schooled her expression, nodded in response to the bob of a curtsy, and then she was alone again.

  It took her longer than expected to tidy up and arrange her belongings to her satisfaction, so her young hostess was skipping with anticipation as Aleria entered the common room. She played along to the hilt, allowing herself to be escorted, seated, arranged and pampered. Clean linen appeared from somewhere, in spite of the fact that none of the other diners had anything of the sort. She exchanged smiles with the patron at the next table, an aged but formally dressed man who might be a clerk of some sort. He must be a regular, and seemed to enjoy watching the little girl bustling about.

  “You’re getting real service tonight, Miss.”

  She shook her head. “I guess I can’t complain. It’s better than I’m used to.”

  He eyed her a moment, then returned to his meal.

  As she ate, Aleria scanned the other diners, but all three were intent on their fare, which was wholesome but plainly spiced. The mug of light ale she tasted first and set aside. Later she tried again and found that, while bitter by itself, it suited the meal well enough.

  After Aleria had eaten and her waitress had bustled the dishes away, the landlady came out of the kitchen to survey the room. Satisfied that everyone was taken care of, she strolled over to Aleria’s table. “Do you mind if I sit and talk awhile?”

  Aleria slid her mug aside, motioned to the opposite chair. “I’d be happy to chat. Perhaps you can give me details of the road north.”

  “I’d be glad to, but it would be better if you wait. My man’s coming down from Sermerey tonight, should be in any moment. He’ll have the newest news, so to speak.”

  “Good enough. So your daughter is fixing to run the place, is she?”

  “Oh, yes. A regular little organizer. Always has been. It’s only lately that I’ve allowed her to deal with strangers, so she loves to practice.”

  “She’s been getting a real workout on me. I hope you don’t mind, I’ve been sort of gently giving her hints as to how to do things.”

  “Mind? I should hope not! I’ll be thanking you. I do my best, but it’s not often she’ll get the chance to practice with a true lady.”

  “True…” her protest was cut off by the woman’s knowing smile. “How can you tell?”

  “A lot of little things. For example, not many girls of my class, even with the money to have your haircut and manicure, would know, or care, to have such a subtle touch around the eyes. I worked in the big houses when I was a girl, so I know.”

  Aleria nodded. So her disguise wasn’t too obvious. Still, the eye makeup would have to go. “Do you get many like me here?”

  “On their Quest? No, not usually. We’re too close to Abret, where they always start, and they usually stay there the first night. Even at that they don’t stop here. Most use the inn, up on the Square.”

  “I asked there. If I stayed in a place like that every night, I would run through my allotment about half way there.”

  The woman smiled. “Then maybe they learn as they go along.” She glanced sidelong at Aleria. “Although I don’t suppose there’s many going by with only their allotment on them.” Her look became questioning.

  “I must admit I have some emergency money hidden away, but not much, and I certainly don’t plan to use it. That’s for real emergencies, not for a better inn.”

  “Good for you. I can see you’ve entered into the spirit of the thing. Not all do, from what I’ve heard.”

  They were interrupted in their chat by a squeal of delight from the far corner of the room. “Show me again! I don’t believe you did that. Show me!”

  The landlady turned a wry smile on her guest. “I think our young hostess has forgotten her proper deportment.” She rose slowly from the bench, and Aleria realized that the woman must be tired, if she had been cooking and cleaning since before breakfast. “I had better get back to my own duties. It was a pleasure to talk to you, Miss Dalmyn. I’ll send my husband over when he gets in, to let you know about the roads.”

  Aleria thanked her and allowed her eyes to stray to the daughter, who was being entertained by a young man in the corner. He was doing some kind of magic trick, making a card appear and disappear. He looked tall and big-boned but not clumsy; his hands moved smoothly through the routine. His clothes were rough and a bit dirty, although he was clean-shaven and his hair was almost neat. He showed the trick again with high good humour and then slid the deck away, scooting Mirette back to the bar with a wave of his hand. As she left, his head came around and he caught Aleria’s eye, smiling and nodding to her. She nodded back, then looked elsewhere. She had been taught about the danger of making eye contact, but he was so friendly to Mirette. He was evidently known and trusted to some degree by Tamina, judging by her lack of reaction to his byplay with her daughter.

  Then their attention was distracted by a clattering in the street outside, and Mirette scooted out the door, waving madly. The man on the cart outside saluted her with his whip as he pulled into the yard. The innkeeper had returned.

  A few minutes later he entered the common room, a short, smiling man with a curly, black beard, trimmed neatly. Introduced by his daughter, he welcomed Aleria politely, and she invited him to join her, and tell her about the road north.

  ‘I’d be pleased, Miss, but there’s not much to tell. Firm and dry the whole way through to Sermerey, and I’d guess a good way past. A bit rough for the cart, but you won’t be troubled by that if you’re walking. ‘Course, you might pick up a ride with a carter if you’re out of here at a decent time in the morning. Least as far as Magnin. After that, there’s less traffic and you’ll probably have to walk it.”

  “I’m planning to walk most of the way,” she grinned, “unless I find out I’m not as tough as I thought. I can actually make better time than the average loaded cart. I’ve tried it with my father’s horses. I just don’t know whether I can keep the pace all day.”

  “So your father does cartage, does he?” She could see the man’s scepticism.

  She raised her head. “Among other things. I won’t say I harness teams or clean tack, but I’ve handled a quad rig on city streets, and I can back a four-wheeler into a tight shed if the team isn’t too skittish.”

  His hands went up in defence. “I’m sorry, Miss. I didn’t want to seem disrespectful. We don’t see many young ladies like you around here.”

  “Are we that conspicuous?”

  “Oh, no. At least not you. Country people pride themselves on being able to spot a Quester the moment she walks into the room. I wouldn’t have known you were, unless my wife had told me.”

  “Good.”

  The innkeeper shook his head. “Might not be so good, Miss.”

  She made a wry face. “In other words, it would be much easier for me if I was obviously a Quester, because people would treat me better.”

  He glanced at her and frowned. “Is there something wrong with that?”

  She leaned her elbows on the table. “Tell me. What do you think the Quest is for?”

  He was taken aback for a moment. “I never really thought about it. I guess it’s sort of a Cumulato ceremony.”

&
nbsp; “A ceremony. Not a test.”

  “Test? I suppose it might have been once…” He seemed reluctant to go on.

  “But it has long ago lost any resemblance to a test, because it’s so easy.”

  The man shrugged his shoulders. “Well, we are so much more civilized, these days.”

  She laughed. “You don’t have to sound apologetic about it. I’m sure there are enough rough spots around that some of the girls will find it quite a challenge. Some of my class would find it difficult to even think of sleeping under a thatched roof. Why, a spider might pounce on them!”

  He chuckled as well. “I don’t know, Miss. Have you ever rolled over in bed and squashed a big spider?” He shivered. “They make quite a mess.”

  “I haven’t had the pleasure. I guess this trip has some surprises in store for me.” Then she became serious. “But tell me. If I’m not that obvious, how is it likely to be different?”

  He considered a moment. “A girl of my class might be travelling alone, just from village to village, and thus known by most people in the area. A stranger with a pack is unusual, but not unheard of. As I said, we’re pretty civilized in this neck of the woods. Nothing like they are down South.”

  She shuddered but did not respond, and he went on. “Nobody would touch you around here, because the local townspeople would string him up for it. However, you might lose your money to a pick-pocket or get pulled into any number of swindles if you’re foolish enough to fall for them.”

  “Which ones have been doing the rounds lately?”

  “The fact that you know to ask means that you’re halfway there already.”

  “I listened in class, that’s all.”

  “You took a class in how to spot swindles?”

  “They don’t send us out completely unprepared, you know.”

  He raised his eyebrows, but did not comment further. “Well, there’s a bunch of gypsies around lately with a beggar kid. She looks all bent up and crippled, but if she has to she can run like the wind. I noticed her when she stole an apple in Magnin the other day. And there’s a woman in Walibi who tells a sorry tale about being beaten by her husband and having to run away with nowhere to go. Problem is, she takes her ‘earnings’ home every night to her husband and the lazy sot drinks them up.”

  “The best swindles always have a bit of truth in them.”

  He nodded. “You do have some training, I can see that.”

  “Those sound relatively harmless. Any serious dangers?”

  He thought again. “There was a pedlar had his pack stolen between here and Drummetar last spring, never found it, but we figgered it was somebody travellin’ through got it.” The man looked at her, grinned, “Fact is, there was a joke that one of the Questers took it. The poor fellow who lost it didn’t like to hear that. Made him look a proper fool.”

  She shook her head. “We’re just a joke to you people, aren’t we?”

  His face was immediately contrite. “No, Miss, not at all…”

  She looked him straight in the eye. “’Not at all…’ but what? What can you say? I bet that, to you people, the Quest is just another sport the Ranking Classes play, like hunting, except it’s less objectionable because nobody crashes their horse through your farmyards or tramples your crops. I bet you rather like it, because it makes you a bit of money, with more travellers going through. In fact, as you said, it’s a bit of a game for you, trying to spot us, but a bit important as well, because it could go pretty rough for a town if one of us came to grief there.”

  The man did not respond, his eyes wary, and she smiled reassuringly.

  “I don’t mind. In fact, you don’t even have to answer. The look on your face is enough to tell me that I’m right. I suspected it before I came, I’ve been on the road half a day, and it’s already obvious.”

  He shrugged, held up empty hands. “I don’t know what to say, Miss. I wouldn’t put it quite so harsh as you do. You have the right idea, but it isn’t all bad, you know. If you think we treat it as a sport, I suppose you’re right, but we enjoy it, too. We like to help out a bit, sometimes. We’re proud that you go through our town. I’m proud that you stayed at our inn.”

  “And I’ve given you tales to tell for weeks.”

  He grinned. “Months, Miss. I bet no one’s never heard any Quester talk like this,” his smile disappeared, “unless you don’t want me to say anything. I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.”

  She laughed aloud. “Master Bouchage, I don’t think anything you could repeat about this conversation could get me into near as much trouble as I’ve jumped into many times, all by myself, with no help from anyone else at all.”

  He shook his head. “Come on, Miss. I’m sure you’re not a trouble-maker!”

  “And I’m sure you’re not a good liar. You’re an intelligent man and a good enough judge of character to have me figured out better than that.”

  He scratched his head, a twisted smile forming on his mouth. “I don’t think I’ll respond to that one, Miss. If you’re as bad as you say you are, I’d just get into more trouble.”

  She laughed again. “Good choice. Now tell me more about the roads north.”

  He went on with his description until the evening customers started arriving and he was too busy to talk. She went to bed early, her long day taking its toll. As she left the common room she saw that the rough young man had departed. She smiled to herself. Maybe he really is a magician and he made himself disappear.

  The bed was harder than she had expected, and with all the things she had to think about, she did not sleep for a long time. At least she wasn’t joined by any spiders big enough to notice.

  8. A Companion on the Road

  It was later than she had intended when she buckled up her pack, made her final room sweep, and clumped down the narrow stairs to the common room. The only occupant was the magician from last night, looking as if he had slept in his clothes: in the stable, by the straw in his hair. He looked straight at her, and she nodded as she crossed to her table. He grinned back before she could break eye contact, and banged his mug on the table.

  “Mirette, she’s come down!”

  The small head appeared, disappeared and returned, hidden behind a cloth-covered tray. “Fresh scones and tea, Miss!”

  “They smell wonderful, Mirette. Did you make them?”

  The little girl’s eyes glowed. “I helped. Mother made sure I put in all the right things, but I stirred them all up, and I cut them, and put them on the pan, too.”

  Aleria crunched into the crust, just catching a dribble of butter that tried to escape down her chin. She nodded in appreciation. “Very good, Mirette.”

  The girl beamed.

  “Hey, Mirette, how about some of those for me?”

  A small frown appeared on the girl’s face. She turned to the other guest. “I don’t think you get breakfast for a penny, Rheety.”

  “Aw, come on, my darlin’. Just one of the fancy lady’s scones would set me on the road so happy.”

  The chin came up. “I will ask the kitchen.”

  As she marched away, the young man caught Aleria’s eye and winked. She couldn’t help but smile.

  “Are they as good as they look?”

  “Oh, yes. There’s nothing like cooking in a stone oven to make them crisp like this.”

  “Great. She’ll get me one, just you watch.”

  “Another of your magic tricks?”

  “You noticed.”

  “You held the card behind your hand, between your fingers.”

  “All right. I’m only practising. Fooled Mirette.”

  “So you fooled a nine-year-old. Well done.”

  “It’s just in fun.”

  Considering his clothing, and noticing that he didn’t seem to be going off to work anywhere, she wondered how much of it was just in fun.

  He stared right back, appraising as well. “So…you headed north?”

  “That’s right.”

  “
Hmm. Like some company on the road?”

  She looked him over again, considered the possibilities. He was known by these people, and she could make sure they were seen leaving together. “Are the roads well-travelled between here and Sererey?”

  “Sure. No worry about being out on a lonely road with strangers, this area.”

  “I wasn’t thinking about strangers.”

  He thought a moment, grinned. “You mean me? I’m pretty harmless.”

  “I’d like to think that.”

  “So shall we stroll along together?”

  “If you can keep up.”

  “Right.” He leaned back, satisfied, to wait for the promised treat. Sure enough, soon Mirette appeared with one small scone, a dab of butter in the middle, all alone on a large plate. She brought it to him with ceremony and he received it with dignified thanks, spoiled by another wink at Aleria over the girl’s head.

  “Are you finished, then, Miss?”

  Aleria nodded, and the Mirette cleared the dishes, returning to scrape the last crumb away with a rag. “Will you be travelling on today, Miss?”

  “Yes, I will. Should we settle up, now?”

  “I will call the proprietress.”

  With precise steps, the little girl paraded behind the bar and out the door. Then the patter of running feet could be heard, and a call of “She’s leavin’, Maw.”

  Aleria waited at the bar, and soon Tamina appeared, drying her hands on a towel.

  “Sorry to pull you away, but I have to get moving.”

  “Right. Looks like a nice day for walking. That kind of cloud seldom sends rain. Too thin.” As she was making change for Aleria’s crown, she noticed Rheety, standing with his pack at the door. “Company on the road?”

  Aleria raised her eyebrows, received a non-committal shrug. She nodded. Probably no trouble, but it was up to her. Fine.

  She said her good-byes to Tamina and Mirette, making sure that the little girl knew that the penny tip was for “service”. Then she shouldered her pack and swung out through the door, which Rheety held gallantly open for her.

  As they were leaving, Master Bouchage appeared around the corner of the inn. He, too, wished her a polite good-bye, but as he passed Rheety, he laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder, spoke a few quiet words.

  Aleria stood sideways, turned back enough to notice the glance her companion gave her, the sudden dropping of the shoulders, the nod. Then he moved towards her, and they strode off down the street.

  It was a fine day, cool enough to walk at good speed, and they were soon out of town. She used the time to practise her story of a middle-level carter’s family, and her journey to visit an old aunt in the north. They chatted on as travelling companions do, and she wondered, with a wry smile to herself, how much truth she was getting in return.

  That made her remember her caution, and she dropped her own little games in order to make a better assessment of her companion. She listened, prompting him occasionally, and he talked on. Finally, she came to the conclusion that he had no legitimate occupation.

  The possibilities of how he actually supported himself were just starting to occur to her when she realized how isolated the terrain was. The small farms bordering the road had given way to a deeper forest, and their way wound through a series of low hills. There were few other travellers, and she began to realize how large and tough looking her companion was.

  However, he walked on at her side, chatting on, and soon she was relieved to see a line of smoke rising from the trees ahead and the fields of a small farmstead opening up on either side of the road. Glancing surreptitiously at her companion, she noted the long knife at his belt, the scar that peeped over his ragged collar. This was no gentleman, she was sure. Yet he had offered her no harm. She was just lucky.

  Or a good judge of character. She studied him again. A very tough young man, she decided. Maybe it wasn’t luck, after all.

  “You know, when we were leaving the inn this morning.”

  “Yeah?”

  “You know, when the innkeeper took you aside?”

  “He did? Oh, yeah, I guess, yeah.”

  “What did he say to you?”

  “Nuthin’. Just good mornin’, have a nice trip.”

  “That was all?” She stopped, forcing him to turn and face her. “Nothing about me?”

  “Not really.” He walked on, but not before she saw the look in his eye.

  She thought back to the incident, how the man had glanced her way, then spoken to her companion. Then his quick reaction, staring at her, then turning away when he saw she had noticed. Had he been warned? It was possible.

  “Rheety, I have to know.”

  She had stopped again, and he retraced his steps to her. “What’s all the fuss about a friend sayin’ good-bye?”

  “I don’t think that was all he said. Did he say something about me?”

  He grinned, with a bit of relief, she thought. “Aw, don’t be worried. You’re not gonna run into any trouble from that guy talkin’ about you. Just the opposite, I figure.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Look, we ain’t gettin’ anywheres standin’ here. If you’re tired, sit down. If you wanta talk, let’s walk.”

  He started out briskly, and she followed him for a moment, then hurried up beside him. “So he really did warn you.”

  He looked down at her, then away. ‘Now, why would he warn a big fella like me about an itty bitty girl like you?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”

  He walked on in silence.

  She had to know. “Do you know who I am?”

  “Of course. Aleria. You told me.”

  “What else?”

  He kept his eyes steadfastly away from her, but she kept the pressure on. Finally, he glanced at her. “You’re one of those Candidate girls, makin’ that Quest thing to the Citadel.”

  “And that’s what he told you?”

  “Yeah.” He shook his head, looked at her more directly. “Don’t know why I didn’t figger it myself. I’ve seen that type before, everybody has. Just they don’t dress like you, don’t act like you. I thought you was a tradesman’s daughter or somethin’.”

  She smiled. “Why, thank you. That’s what I was trying to do.”

  It was his turn to stop, facing her earnestly. “Well, it wasn’t a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because as long as everybody knows who you are, you’re not gonna have any trouble. Everybody knows that they keep their hands off the Questers. You bother one of them, and like as not there’ll be the father with twenty or thirty men come lookin’ for you. A town gets the reputation for bein’ too rough, they change the routes and you lose the business. Nope, you leave the Questers alone, you don’t want a whole heap of trouble for yourself and everybody else to boot.”

  “So I can wander around here, safe as the streets back home.”

  His lip wrinkled slightly as he resumed walking. “I wouldn’t say that. There’s always those as don’t care, or think it’s a challenge. Or maybe they’re so stupid they think they won’t get caught. I wouldn’t just wander along with my eyes closed, if I was you.”

  She nodded. “Thanks for the warning. It’s important for me to do this right, you know. That’s why I dressed so carefully.”

  He seemed interested, and for a while she chatted on, telling him about her life at school, about which he was interested, but had little idea. After a while a thought entered her head.

  “You thought I was a tradesman’s daughter, did you?”

  He shrugged. “Somethin’ like that.”

  “And if I had been, what then?”

  “Whattaya mean?”

  “You know what I mean. The innkeeper warned you. What were you going to do that you shouldn’t?”

  “Nuthin’.”

  “I’m sure.”

  He was silent, and for a while they walked along, unspeaking. Aleria knew that if she waited him out, he wo
uld give in. It had happened before. Sooner or later he would tell her. Sure enough, after they had passed another farm he cleared his throat. Time for a nudge.

  “Look, Rheety. I’m on this Quest to learn things. If no one tells me anything, how am I going to learn?”

  He considered this a moment. Then he turned to her, his palms upward. “I wouldn’t have done nothin’ bad, you realize. I mean, I’m not no murderer or nothin’. Just that, well, maybe if she’s a tradesman’s daughter, and goin’ a ways, then maybe she’d have some money or jewels, or a nice length of cloth in her pack.”

  “So you would take whatever opportunity you could to find out.”

  “Right. And then, if I got tired of her company, I might just disappear with somethin’. I wouldn’t hurt her or nothin’ like that.” He grinned. “In fact, if I liked her, and she liked me, there’s no tellin’ what we might get up to. Only if she was willin’, you understand.”

  He glanced over at her, noted her smile. “Well, it ain’t completely unusual, you know, a girl findin’ me attractive.”

  “No, no, I’m sure it isn’t.”

  He walked a little faster, his back straight. “Yeah, it ain’t unusual at all. And not only the servant girls, neither.”

  “Rheety, you’ve been straight with me, and I’ll be straight with you. Put that thought right out of your mind.”

  “Hey, I can take a hint.”

  “Evidently.”

  “What?”

  “It’s not important.”

  “You know, you talk kinda funny.”

  “I don’t speak exactly like you do. But I think we get the ideas across.”

  He grinned ruefully. “Well, you sure do, anyways.”

  She laughed. “Oh, Rheety. I’m so sorry I spoiled your fun. You don’t have to keep walking with me, you know. As you have pointed out, I’m perfectly safe. You can go back and look for some cute little farmer’s daughter with a chicken in her basket for you to lift.”

  “Aw, I don’t think so.”

  “Go on. Maybe you’d get to lift more than the chicken.”

  He was silent for a moment, and she realized that he was blushing. After a moment he glanced at her. She was careful to be looking straight ahead.

  “Nope, I think I’ll keep along with you. I was thinkin’ of goin’ to Sererey anyways. And it’s not that safe, you know. I told you. And there’s bears and the like, too. Not often, but once in a while. And I like talkin’ to you. It’s different.”

  “I imagine. Well, it’s different for me, talking to you. So I guess we can travel along together a bit longer.”

  “Suits me.”

  “Suits me.”

  It was a long, dusty walk, but the afternoon passed quickly in Rheety’s company. He opened up as they went along, describing his childhood, which she could barely credit, his parents, whom she could hardly imagine, and his present life, which didn’t sound half so much fun as he tried to present it. As far as she could gather, he was a seasonal labourer, picking up any work he could, trying to keep himself alive and independent. He made decent wages in the winter when he went logging in the north, but the summer was more difficult. Or he didn’t try that hard. He would stoop to petty thievery if the occasion presented, but didn’t consider himself an outlaw by any means.

  Reaching Sererey, she found a strange reluctance to part from him, her first friend of the road. “Where are you going to sleep?”

  He shrugged. “I got plenty of friends here. Where you’re goin’ to sleep is much more important. I know an inn. Just off the road, so it’s not so expensive, but real clean and respectable.”

  He led her to a fine little place, a bit more costly than she would have chosen, but within her budget. Supper was included, and she invited him to share the meal with her, but he looked around, hesitated, then refused.

  “Thanks a lot, Aleria, but I better be goin’. I gotta look up those people, make sure they’re home, get me somewhere that suits me. You have a good sleep, so you can make good time tomorrow.”

  “So I won’t be seeing you again?”

  He tilted his head from side to side. “Maybe, maybe not. I figure you’ll be up and gone before I even wake up.” He grinned. “After all, we made it a good hike today. I’m gonna be tired.”

  “All right, then. Thank you ever so much for your company. I really enjoyed talking to you. Learned a lot.”

  He shuffled his feet, and she thought again how easy it was to embarrass him. “Good-bye, then, Aleria. Thanks for the company. Sure made the day go fast.”

  “Good-bye, Rheety. See you on the road somewhere.”

  He smiled, nodded, then turned away. She watched him go, his head high, and he didn’t look back. Finally, she turned and went into the inn, feeling lonely.

  9. Reward for Hard Labour

  The feeling of wellbeing that returned with the morning sun lasted all through the following day and well into the next, when a rain shower soaked her as she stood, undecided, at an unsigned fork in the road. Unfolding the sketchy map they had given her, she tried to protect it from the water that ran off her sleeves while she puzzled it out. There was nothing to indicate which way she should take. She knew she should be able to get to Dargilan by evening, but that was all.

  With a shrug, she stowed the map and chose the road that looked like it might be used more often. As she walked along, she tried to relate this road to the one she had been travelling, and it seemed about the same, though a bit narrower. She resolved to ask someone.

  She passed several small farms, but there seemed to be no one around. Then she saw a figure working in a field ahead. She would ask him.

  As she got closer, he turned and worked his way up the next row of corn, hoeing with slow determination. By the time she reached him, he was far up the row, and it seemed a shame to ask him to come all the way back to speak with her. She waited to see if he would notice her and turn, but he didn’t. She couldn’t wait forever; she walked on.

  There was no sign of life at the next few farms, and she was beginning to wish she had spoken to the first man. At the next place, she saw a man with a dog, herding a flock of sheep into a pen. He waved in a friendly fashion when she stopped to watch, but he was so far up the hillside she couldn’t ask him to come down, and she didn’t want to go up and disturb his flock while he was working them, so after leaning on the fence for a brief rest she continued.

  There were no more farms for the next half hour, and she was getting quite upset at herself. If she was on the wrong road, and she had walked all this way, merely because she was too shy to talk to a peasant, then she probably deserved it. She resolved to speak to the next person she came across. The rain had stopped, and now the sun was doing a good job of drying her clothing, so her optimism returned.

  This next person proved to be a wizened old woman sitting in her doorway in the sun, peeling potatoes with a well-worn knife. Her house was very near the road, and Aleria strode around the corner and came upon her quite suddenly.

  “Oh. Hello.” That was creative, Aleria.

  “Hello, dearie.” The woman’s smile seemed vague.

  “Nice day.”

  “Nice day, isn’t it?”

  Aleria nodded. “It is.”

  The woman nodded as well. Was she simple, or just hard of hearing? One way to find out.

  “Is this the road to Dargilan?”

  The woman’s head tilted, eyes squinted a bit, and Aleria realized that she was standing so that the sun fell over her shoulder on the woman’s face. She moved to the side and tried again. “Dargilan. Where is Dargilan?”

  The old head nodded. “Dargilan.”

  “That’s right. I’m going to Dargilan.” She made walking motions with her fingers, mimed uncertainty, up the road or down.

  A toothless smile was her reward. “Dargilan’s that way.” The knotted hand holding the knife rose, pointed back down the road.

  Aleria sighed.

  But then the smile got wider
, and the hand swung “And Dargilan’s that way.”

  “Pardon me?” She mimed again, spoke even louder. “Dargilan? That way?” She pointed the other way “Dargilan? That way?”

  “That’s right, dearie. You can get there both ways.”

  “Ah.”

  “If you go back down to the main road, where you just came from, and turn right by the big clump of cottonwoods, that’ll get you to Dargilan.” The weathered hand swung back. “But if you go up over the pass, there, through the pine forest, it’s a steeper road, but much shorter.”

  “I see. Shorter but steeper. “

  “Shorter but steeper. So it all depends on how much energy is left in those young legs of yours.”

  “I think there’s still a bit.” The old woman was watching her lips, and Aleria decided she must be hard of hearing. Once she started she had no lack of words.

  “Then you go over the pass through the pine woods, dearie, and you’ll be in Dargilan by suppertime.”

  “Are there any turnings I need to know about?”

  “What’s that, dearie?”

  She mimed a join in the road. “Turnings. This way, that way?”

  “Oh. Turnings.” the old eyes roamed upwards as the woman thought. “Yes, just after the top there’s a single trail to the east. Don’t take that one. Keep to the cart track and you’ll be fine. Once you get down along the river, though, take the first bridge, the one on the left. You can cleave to the right bank as well, but the left side is the shady side, and you’ll be warmed after hiking the pass.”

  “Thank you.” There was a pause. Aleria tried to think of anything to say.

  “Have a nice walk, then, dearie.”

  “Thank you. Have a nice day.”

  “Thank you. So far I have.” A brief, cackling chuckle. “The way I see it, any day my toes are above the sod is a nice day.”

  Aleria smiled, raised a hand in farewell, and strode away.

  The track became steeper and soon she was slowed down to one foot in front of the other. She had discovered that on the hills the shorter steps she took, the easier it was, so she schooled her impatient head and let her aching legs control her pace. It was better in the shade of the pine forest, where the spicy scent of the trees filled her nostrils. She peered off into the depths behind their dark trunks, rank on rank, but her eyes could not pierce the dimness.

  The pines thinned as she reached the top of the pass, and the last part of the climb was out in the blazing sun again. The idle thought came to her that perhaps the old woman wasn’t quite right in the head and had just told her what she wanted to hear. Perhaps she was going to have to climb this mountain, climb down, find herself stuck, then climb back over it and walk all the way back to the other road.

  Next time she wouldn’t be so slow to ask directions.

  It was with supreme relief that she crested the last small rise and saw the road begin to drop before her. She mopped her streaming face, took one more swig from her canteen and looked around for some shade. There was none, so she started downhill, placing her feet carefully on the rough track. The mountains around her weren’t high, but their dry, rocky faces were uninviting. Not a place to spend the night. She looked for the next landmark.

  Sure enough, a narrow path soon branched off to the east, and her doubt in the old woman diminished. When she reached the bottom of the valley and the road again divided, she was confident to cross the old stone bridge and swing along beside the stream in the shade of the trees that grew there.

  The sun had just begun its final slide down into coolness when she saw the outskirts of the village. Realizing her condition, she glanced around to make sure she had no company, then left the road, dropping her pack beside the stream and using her headband to give herself a quick going over. There was no water still enough to see her face, so she wrung out the headband and stretched it around her tousled hair. She wasn’t in any competition for style and beauty anyway.

  Refreshed at least, she swung up her pack and marched into the town. True to her new resolve, she stopped the first decently dressed woman she saw. “Excuse me, Ma’am, but could you tell me of a reasonable inn, not too expensive?”

  The woman, a middle-aged, portly type in a good quality cotton skirt and apron, smiled. “There’s several choices, young lady. How much were you planning to pay?”

  Aleria shrugged. “I’ve been getting by quite well on a quarter crown, back up the road.”

  “Have you come far today?”

  “Only from Magnin, but I couldn’t figure which fork to take, back at the big cottonwood clump, you know?”

  “I know the spot. And you came over the mountain.”

  “It’s hot up there.”

  The woman regarded her with a faint smile. “You have a problem, then. Warm day like this, a hike like that, I imagine you’d like a bath.”

  “I certainly would. I freshened up in the stream but it isn’t the same.”

  “For a quarter crown, you aren’t going to get a bath. The only hostelry in town with a bath will cost you three quarters.”

  Aleria winced. “I suppose I could afford it, but it seems a lot. Is it a nice inn?”

  “Nice enough. Clean, and the food’s good. I think they’re asking a bit much, though, bath or no bath.”

  The woman looked at Aleria, frowned some more, looked up and down the empty street, seemed to make up her mind. “I tell you, young lady, I have an idea. I’m not in the business of making beds up for strangers, and I can’t afford to let people stay for free, but I’ve got my son’s old room, and a little bath house in the yard. You come and stay with me. I’ll take your quarter crown and go out and buy a good cut of meat and a nice bottle of wine, and you and I can have a decent meal, you can have a long soak, and we’ll both be ahead of the game.”

  It was Aleria’s turn to be cautious. Upon closer inspection, she could see that this woman was not perhaps as prosperous as she tried to look. The apron had light stains of the sort that cannot be washed out, and the collar and cuffs of her blouse were on the point of fraying. “Do you live by yourself, Ma’am?”

  “I do. My son has his own place now, just outside of town, and I’ll be honest, I don’t get half the company I’m used to, now that he’s moved out. It would be a pleasure to have someone to talk to for the evening.”

  Aleria nodded. “It sounds fine to me.” She held out her hand. “My name’s Aleria Dalmyn, and I’m travelling to…”

  “To the Citadel, of course. I’m Lussan Solere. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

  They clasped hands, and Lussan turned her into a side street. “My little house is just up here. We’ll get a fire going under the water tank and you can have a cool drink while you’re waiting.”

  It was a pleasant little cottage, only four rooms on one floor, but there was a spacious yard out the back with a poultry coop, an extensive vegetable garden and, right by the house, a small wooden shed with a chimney on one side. Lussan bustled about, opening a spigot to let water from a barrel under the eaves run into the tank, and lighting a fire in the metal box underneath.

  “There. It’ll take an hour or more. Come over here and sit down.”

  At the side of the vegetable garden, just by the kitchen door, there was a small area paved with odd-sized stones, sporting two weathered chairs, low of leg and slanted at the back. Aleria dropped her pack and sank into one of them. “Ah. That feels good.”

  “You just rest a moment. I’ll get you a drink, and then I’ll go shopping.”

  Aleria smiled to herself as she watched the older woman scooting back and forth arranging everything. She sipped the drink, which seemed to be made of some sort of berry, a watery but refreshing taste.

  “This is nice.”

  “Thank you, Aleria. I make it myself, keep it cool in a special box I have in the kitchen…no, don’t get up. I can show it to you later. My son made it for me.” She waved towards the bathhouse. “He’s a coppersmith, my son. Does pipes and drains and
that sort of thing.” Her chin rose. “You look around my house, you’ll find water conveniences as good as most manor houses.”

  Aleria nodded. “That’s very good of him, to treat his mother so well.”

  Lussan grinned, leaned closer. “To be honest, what I get are the ones that don’t work as good as they ought to. When something goes wrong, he throws it on a scrap heap out back of his shop.”

  “That must be a real treasure trove. Isn’t he worried it will get stolen?”

  The woman laughed. “If it was iron, perhaps. But copper isn’t so valuable, and only a bit of it’s brass. So it just lies there. Then every once in a while he gets an idea, and he goes through the scrap and finds enough to put it together for me.”

  Aleria shrugged. “If it works, it works.” She grinned up at her hostess. “If I’m getting a bath out of it, I’ll be the last one to complain.”

  “Fair enough. Are you comfortable, now?”

  “I certainly am.” She took another sip of the cool drink.

  “Then I’ll just slip out and get some things.”

  “Right.” Aleria had been prepared for this, slipping a quarter crown from her inside purse. “Here’s my contribution.”

  The woman smiled. “You just relax, now. I won’t be long.”

  She hustled herself out, and Aleria heard the front door close. She stretched her legs in front of her, took a longer drink of the juice and looked around the yard. It was very tidy: the kitchen garden in neat rows, well weeded, the raspberry canes tied up, the chickens and ducks looking well fed and healthy, as far as a city girl could tell.

  Aleria’s eye wandered from the rain barrel up to the eaves, noting the copper troughs, the downpipes running in different directions. Curious and not that tired any more, she investigated and discovered that the water from the roof was directed to three different barrels. One fed the bathhouse, one was used for watering the garden, and the other led through the wall of the house to an unknown destination. Not wanting to snoop, Aleria strolled back to her chair. It was a small house. She would find out soon enough.

  Even in the shade it was warm, and Aleria was soon dozing in the comfortable chair. She aroused, disoriented, when the front door closed. She felt fuzzy around the edges as she shook her head, not trusting herself to get to her feet.

  “Hello!” The voice rose up and down in a singsong.

  Aleria managed something that was not quite a growl.

  “I’m sorry. Were you asleep?” Lussan poked her head out of the kitchen.

  “Just drowsing. It’s so peaceful here.”

  “Too peaceful for me. That’s why I’m glad you’re here.”

  Aleria nodded, content that there was no required answer.

  “You’ll never guess what I have for our supper. Of course you’ll never guess. How could you know that Leuf Charnisay just butchered the steer that won the prize at the fair? How could you know that he had saved some of the loin chops, just in case someone wanted them?”

  “Loin chops?”

  “That’s right. I have to admit they cost almost the whole of the quarter crown. But they’ll be worth it. Just you wait.” Lussan had scooted out the door, and was hunting around the garden, for all the world like one of her hens, pecking at a bush here, a twig there, filling her apron with herbs as she went.

  “Have you checked the water?”

  Aleria sat up with a start. “Was I asleep that long?”

  “Probably. I was out a bit longer than I had hoped. I met some people who just had to talk. You know how it is.”

  “I’d better wake up and check the water, then.” Aleria dragged herself out of her low chair, stumbled a few times as her stiffened legs protested, and hobbled over to the bathhouse. Steam rose from the tank as she opened the door. She dipped a finger in.

  “It seems pretty hot.”

  “Just make sure the plug is solid in the tub, then open the gate at the bottom of the heating tank and let it run.”

  She did as she was instructed, marvelling at the skill of the workman who had created the system. Soon the tub was full and smoking. As she regarded it, her hostess’ head appeared beside hers. “That’s just about right. Now look here. Have you ever used one of these baths?”

  “Not exactly like this, no.”

  “This is how it works. You sit on that stool over there and dip water from the tub to pour over yourself. Then you use the soap, here, and scrub yourself all over.”

  “And you rinse before you get into the tub.”

  “That’s right. You don’t bathe in the tub, you see, because once we’ve used all the firewood to heat the water, then several people can use the same water, if they’re clean when they get in.”

  “We have big bath houses in the Capital that work like that.”

  “So you soap up, scrub down, and rinse yourself all over before you get into the tub. Don’t worry, it all goes down that drain, there.”

  Aleria nodded.

  “You have a nice bath. Here’s a towel. I have a dinner to cook.”

  Aleria followed her hostess back to the patio to retrieve her pack, then retired to the bathhouse. She stripped down, anxious to get into that wonderful hot water. As she lathered up, she realized that it wasn’t just any soap. There were herbs in it that released their aroma as the hot water worked on them.

  It wasn’t long before she was slipping into the big tub: slowly, because the water was so hot. She found that if she pulled her knees in, she could submerge herself right up to the neck. She sighed and leaned her head back. “I could get used to this.”

  Once again, she found herself dozing.

  “Aleria! Aleria?”

  She rallied around, raised her head. “Yes?”

  “I forgot to tell you. Don’t stay in too long!”

  Something in the woman’s voice alerted her. “Why not?”

  “It’s not a good idea to stay in too long when you’re tired, and the water is very hot.”

  “Why not?”

  The door opened a crack, and a worried face appeared. “Because you’ll get so tired, you won’t be able to get out.”

  “Oh, I doubt that.” Aleria straightened her back, raised her head. It felt very heavy. She tried to raise her arms to grasp the edge of the tub, but they seemed heavy too. It was difficult to care, though, because the water was so warm and she felt so drowsy…

  A pang of fear shot through her. Could she even get out? She willed her arms to lift, her hands to grasp. She pulled herself upright, sat on the edge of the tub.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I…I think so. I see what you mean, though. My arms are like noodles. No, don’t worry, I can make it.” She pushed herself upwards, and slid over the edge of the tub, gripping as firmly as she could. When her feet hit the cool tiles of the floor, she straightened slowly, holding on until she had her balance.

  Lussan reached in, handed her the towel. “That’s better. You just dry yourself off, get into some fresh clothes. As soon as you’re out, it’s my turn!”

  Aleria scrubbed herself with the rough towel, willing the strength back into her muscles. As she worked, her mind began to function again. Of course, Lussan would want to bathe as well. Dry and tingling all over, she dug into her pack for fresh undergarments and blouse, decided to wear her better skirt, and stepped out into the cool of the evening. She stretched again, leaning her pack against the bathhouse wall, and looked around.

  The sun was setting, and everything seemed crisp in the twilight air. She grinned as Lussan bustled by her, towel and clean clothes over her arm. Aleria returned to her chair, to find a fresh drink waiting. It was the same juice, but with a different tang. A touch of some sort of brandy, perhaps. It tasted far better this way. She resolved not to drink too much.

  She slipped into the chair again, her head clear now, and assessed her situation. It had cost her the same as a night’s lodging, but if this woman’s cooking was anywhere near as good as her son’s handiwork, she was in
for a pleasant evening.

  10. Old Women’s Dreams

  She was roused by a tapping from the cottage. She looked over to the bathhouse, but there was no response.

  “Lussan, there’s someone at the door. Do you want me to answer?”

  The voice came faintly from inside. “Please do.”

  The rapping came again, and she hurried through the cottage and opened the door. An older woman stood looking up at her, a pot in her hands, and a soft bag slung over her shoulder.

  “You must be Aleria? I’m Preully.” She pushed the pot into Aleria’s hands.

  “Could you put that in the kitchen? I’ll just slip out to the bath house for a moment.”

  Bemused, Aleria complied, taking a moment for an appreciative sniff at the chops, sitting in their marinade. By the time she returned to the garden, the bathhouse door was closing behind the little woman. Shrugging, she returned to her chair.

  She hadn’t been sitting more than a minute when another knock came at the door. Glancing over to the bathhouse, where all she heard was a loud giggle, she shrugged again, and went to answer.

  The caller this time was a once-tall older woman, stooped with toil, her face weatherworn and wrinkled. She held, cradled in her hands, a dark glass bottle. Slowly, ever so slowly, she held it out like an offering. “Here you are, my dear. Treat that with care, now. There’s only three left.”

  With that cryptic statement, the aged woman slipped past Aleria and she, too, disappeared into the bathhouse.

  Aleria looked the bottle over, could discover nothing except that the dust and the wax over the cork seemed very old. Moving with care, she placed the bottle in the middle of the kitchen table and went outside. With a wry glance at the bathhouse door, she started back to her chair. It seemed the hot water was doing its full duty.

  Somewhat to her surprise, there were no further interruptions. Soon Lussana appeared, towelling her hair as she walked. She stopped and looked at Aleria hesitantly. “I hope you don’t mind. I just invited the two of them.”

  Aleria smiled. “Can’t let all that hot water go to waste.”

  Her hostess grinned as well. “Right. And wait till you taste Dusina’s wine. Her husband was a master vintner, dead these fifteen years. We’ve been trying to get her to open another bottle of his best blend for a long time now.”

  She continued to talk, so Aleria followed her into the kitchen. “I wonder what Preully brought?” She lifted the pot lid. “Oh, good. Cold potato salad is so nice on a hot day.” She started passing dishes and glasses to Aleria, who spread the table. As they worked, the two other women finished their bath and returned, glowing from the heat, to sit around the table.

  “You sit down, as well, Aleria. There’s no room for two to work in this kitchen.”

  Aleria gratefully complied, as there was a lassitude over her whole body. The women chatted about the news of the town and their families, regaling Aleria with the usual tales of eccentric relatives and impossible husbands. She was amused to realize that the conversation was not a whole lot different from that of her mother’s friends when they got together over a cup of tea.

  With this entertainment, it didn’t seem long before Lussan was handing around plates, each centred by a thick and steaming piece of meat. Aleria deduced why the chops had cost almost a quarter crown. There were four of them. So this situation had not been completely impromptu.

  Before she sat, Lussan reached out for the bottle of wine, presented it to her older friend, along with a simple corkscrew. “It’s your wine, Dusina, you do the honours.”

  With a business-like flourish, the old woman opened the bottle, poured a drop in her own glass and tasted it, using proper technique, Aleria noticed. Then she nodded. “Just keeps gettin’ better.”

  She poured for everyone, and they sipped appreciatively. Aleria was amazed. She backed up and started the full tasting ritual that this wine deserved. It was deep and heavy, not a summer wine, but the flavours were rich, and a smoky aftertaste seemed to linger and develop.

  “I see you can appreciate a good wine, young lady.”

  She smiled at the old woman. “One this good, even I can tell. It’s beautiful! Where did it come from?”

  “Right here, from a vineyard just outside Dargilan. My husband, Jernit, put this down, oh, must be twenty years past. Died long since, and never had a taste of it, he did. Said to keep it for special occasions. So I have been. Then I did some figurin’. Figured there ain’t too many special occasions left in my life, and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna have anybody drinkin’ Jernit’s special wine to celebrate my funeral. So I decided to drink it when I felt like it. Today I feel like it!” She stared at each of them as if challenging anyone to disagree with her.

  Aleria raised her glass. “Well, Dusina, I’ll not argue with that decision. This is wonderful.”

  “It’s awful kind of you to say so, Aleria, and you havin’ better’n that every day of the week if you wants it.”

  “I think you have an exaggerated idea of how we live in the Capital. My family only drinks wine when we have company or on special occasions. Most of my friends do the same.”

  The oldest woman made a scoffing sound. “Aw, quit bein’ so truthful. We’re much to old to have our dreams tossed around like that.”

  Aleria grinned. “All right. I was just being polite. At home we drink nothing but the best wines, every night of the week, and at lunch on Feastdays as well.” She looked at the serious, nodding faces in front of her.

  “And I still don’t get to taste wine this good more than twice a year!”

  They exploded into cackles of mirth at that. As they settled, everyone took another small, appreciative sip. All nodded in unison, and a brief silence settled over the group.

  “So now tell us.”

  “Tell you what?” She looked at the three faces, leaning forward with anticipation.

  “About your school.”

  “My school? Why would you want to know about my school?”

  Lusson laid a hand over Aleria’s. “Every woman in the realm knows about the Ladies’ Academy. Every girl dreams of going there: the knowledge, the ideas…”

  Dusina cackled, “…the parties, the handsome young men…”

  Lusson continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted. “And we see you all go through here on your Quest, and every woman wishes that it was her, or her daughter.”

  “And we all want to know what it’s like.” Preully clasped her hands in front of her, twisted them back and forth.

  “But there’s a barrier. You girls are supposed to be on your Quest, you’re not supposed to be recognized. So we can’t ask you, don’t you see? It would spoil everything.”

  Aleria shook her head. “So all sorts of people let me know that they have recognized me, but the ones that want to talk to me the most can’t, because that would spoil their dream.”

  The three women sat back in unison, satisfied smiles on their faces.

  Lusson raised her hands helplessly. “But then today, you came up and talked to me, and you were so friendly, and so natural, and so…beautiful, and I just couldn’t help myself.”

  The look of anxious sincerity on the woman’s face stifled Aleria’s shout of laughter. She paused, shook her head, softened her voice. “Beautiful? I’m not beautiful. I’m just one of the pretty ones.”

  She nodded against their incredulous stares. “My face is too round. I’ll never be beautiful, not like you’re talking about.”

  She looked at the disappointed faces in front of her. “You want beautiful, you should see my friend Mito. Now there’s the kind of beauty you want to see. Not because she’s just well formed. She has the kind of beauty that just shines out from her heart, you know?”

  There were three slight nods, as if her listeners were unaware of the need to respond. Taking another sip of the excellent wine, she began to tell the story of Mito at the Spring Ball, not leaving out the tragic element of her impoverished family, of their
sacrifice to keep her at the school, and Mito’s ethereal beauty as she sat, rapt in her dream, and received the hopeless adulation of the handsomest of the young men.

  As she spun out the tale to her entranced audience, the small idea wiggled through her consciousness that the best story is one that has a whole lot of truth in it, and she wondered how much of what she was telling was true, and how much was just her own interpretation of a mundane situation. Gazing at the three women listening to her, she realized that it didn’t matter a whit.

  When she had finished the tale, she sat back, took another sip, hiding the fact that she had finished her glass.

  “But what happened next?”

  “What did she do?”

  “That’s the story, ladies, up to the present. I don’t know what she will do, and, at the moment, neither does she.”

  There was a combined sigh, and the three women sat back in their chairs in silence.

  Suddenly Dusina reached out and grabbed her glass. “A toast, dammit. A toast to the Royal Academy for Young Ladies, and for all that’s good and beautiful!”

  They all solemnly raised their glasses.

  “And Aleria’s glass is empty.” The old woman raised the bottle to the light. “But so is the bottle. Dammit.”

  “I guess an about-to-become graduate of the Royal Academy for Young Ladies can afford to buy her friends another bottle.” She fished out another quarter crown. “Lussan, let’s go for a walk, you and me. The inn must have something good.”

  Lussan glanced at her friends and rose. “Don’t you two go anywhere.”

  The other two nodded and retained their places.

  The two women, older and younger, stepped out into the street. It was dark down among the buildings, but there was plenty of starlight, and Aleria knew from her walk in this afternoon that the street was clear of obstacles. As they walked, Lussan hummed a little tune to herself.

  “That was a nice story. Where did you get it?”

  “Get it?”

  “Yes. Some wonderful writer must have written that story. It was so beautiful, yet so sad.”

  Aleria snorted. “You know what really bothers me? It’s that I can’t tell Mito what you said, because then I’d have to admit that I told a bunch of strangers about her, and she’d hate that.”

  “What? She really is real?”

  “I said she was my friend. She is. And nobody would think that was a story by a wonderful writer, because if it wasn’t real it would be just too sappy to believe.”

  “Sappy?”

  “Yes, sappy. Oh, I know that a bunch of women sitting around telling their dreams would find it beautiful. It is beautiful, in a way. But the last thing I’m going to do is tack a ‘happily ever after’ ending on it, because that would make it even worse.”

  She could feel her companion looking up at her through the darkness. “I think I just learned something else about the young ladies going through here on their Quests.”

  “What was that?”

  “That some of them are not as sweet and innocent as we would like to believe.”

  “Are you talking about me?”

  “Partly. There’s a sort of a sharpness about you.”

  “Huh! A sharpness. Yes, you wouldn’t be the first one to notice that.”

  “You hide it well.”

  “Most of the time.”

  In the growing light from the inn windows, she could see Lusson nod. “It’s not an easy life, being like that.”

  “No, I guess it isn’t.”

  “My son is like that. He just can’t let things be. In his trade, it’s a benefit. In his life, sometimes it isn’t.”

  “Some day maybe I should find a trade like that. In my life, it has almost always been a detriment.”

  They were entering the inn, now, and her companion did not respond.

  It was a pleasant little country hostel: nothing special, but well lit and freshly whitewashed inside. Aleria knew she would not have even asked the price, bathtub or not. Lussan did not seem affected by the opulence.

  “Good evening, Perusse. Do you have any of that case of Chatelire wine left? We’d like a bottle, please.”

  The barman nodded. “Yes, we have a few left, Lusson.” He glanced at Aleria, grinned at the older woman. “Special company tonight?”

  “That’s right, Perusse. A special friend from the Capital.”

  “From the Capital?” His second glance took longer, but he said no more, turning away to descend a set of narrow steps behind the bar.

  Lusson grinned at Aleria and turned to survey the people in the room. No one ignored them, but there was a distinct lack of overt interest.

  Aleria smiled back. “They don’t have to be impolite enough to ask. They’ll all know by tomorrow.”

  “That’s about it.”

  The barman’s head appeared up the stairs, and Lusson leaned closer for a moment. “The price ought to be three pennies, but he’ll try for four. On no account give him five.”

  Aleria turned, feigning a lack of interest, and tossed a quarter crown on the bar. The barman set the wine down, picked up the coin, paused.

  “There will be change, I assume?”

  “Now, young lady, that’s a nice wine you’re getting there.”

  “I’m glad of it. How would it rate against a bottle of Jernit’s Special Blend?”

  Perusse raised his hands in defence. “Oh, it isn’t in that class. If I could get my hands on some of that Special of Jernit’s, I could sell it for three, maybe four crowns.”

  She nodded. “So we’ve just been drinking some of Jernit’s, and our mouths are sort of set on that level, you know? So I’d be very disappointed if I were to open a bottle I paid, say three pennies for, and discover it wasn’t up to standard.”

  “Three! Oh, come on, now, young lady. I’m sure you can get wine of this quality for three pennies in the capital, but there are shipping charges, and agent’s charges, and…”

  “But you have perfectly good vineyards around here, or that’s what I’ve been hearing. Surely you have wines as good as this with no cartage at all.”

  “Perhaps, but I still couldn’t let this one go for less than four pennies.”

  “I’ll tell you what, Master Perusse. You slip the cork out of that bottle and we’ll have a little taste of it right now. If it’s worth it, I’ll pay your four pennies.”

  The barman frowned. “But what if I open it and you don’t buy it? What do I do then?”

  She laughed. “Then you have an overpriced bottle of wine for dinner that your sharp dealing brought you. Don’t worry. If this wine is as good as you say it is, I’ll pay the money.”

  The barman shook his head and reached under the counter, bringing out three glasses and a corkscrew. By this time, considerable interest had been drawn to them, and several patrons sidled nearer. He frowned and, very carefully, drew the cork from the bottle. It came out with a satisfying pop, and he raised it to his nose, a bit hesitantly. Then he recovered with a professional smile and passed it to her. There was nothing wrong with the smell, and she nodded.

  He poured three small dollops. It was a rich, dark, wine and it seemed to fall rather than to flow from the bottle. She took the glass and swirled it, watching the wine run down the sides. She held it to the light, not that she was expecting anything but a clear, deep red.

  She continued to go through the tasting ritual as she had been trained since she was young, aware that her knowledge was very shallow, although her sense of taste was acute. It was a good wine, although nothing like what she had just been drinking. She said so.

  The barman slapped his hands on the bar in front of him. “I can’t compete with Jernit, I told you that.”

  “I don’t expect you to. However, I must say, I would not pay three pennies for this wine in the Capital, or four for it anywhere else. It has a fine, rich nose, but there is a hint of sourness in the aftertaste that no amount of aging is going to get rid of.”

  The barman s
tuck his nose in his glass again, sipped, then stared at the ceiling as he swirled the liquid in his mouth. Finally, he swallowed, then breathed in, shaking his head. “I’m afraid you’re right, Miss. The other bottles in the case weren’t like that, I’ll swear.”

  She nodded. “Of course, it’s a Chatelire.”

  “That’s right. It came highly recommended at the price.”

  “Chatelire mostly deserves it, but they had a problem a few years back, I’m not sure how long, when they changed Master Vintners. The new man took a while to get settled in, and their quality suffered. From what I hear, they’re back on their form now, so their more recent wines will be fine.”

  The barman wordlessly slipped her coin across the bar to her. She pushed it back.

  “I think we can agree that this is worth three pennies, what with the cartage and the agents and all.”

  A smile lit his face. “Well, Miss, your advice on the Chatelire is worth the extra penny any day.” The quarter crown vanished and he handed her the two pennies change.

  She nodded. “Then watch out for last year’s whites from that area when they start coming around. I’m told they had way too much rain in mid-summer, and the grapes grew too fast.”

  The barman nodded, as did several of the onlookers. “Thank you, Miss. I hope you two enjoy that bottle.”

  Lussan smiled. “Oh, I’m sure it will be fine. After Jernit’s, nothing would be really good anyway.”

  “Say, do you think there’s any chance Dusina would let any of that go?”

  “I think she’s saving one last bottle to drink on her deathbed.”

  They bid the barman good night and carried their prize away. Once they were well out of earshot of the inn, Lussan chuckled. “That was an interesting lesson.”

  “For who?”

  “Everyone. For a young lady, you know wines. I didn’t have any idea.”

  “Part of the training we get at school, and rest at home. My father has a decent cellar, although we don’t, as I keep trying to tell you, drink that much of it.”

  “I believe you. Let’s get this back home. Maybe, if we’re lucky enough, those other two have fallen asleep, and we’ll get all this to ourselves.”

  Dusina had, indeed, fallen asleep, but she awoke with a snap and thoroughly enjoyed Lussan’s telling of the scene at the inn. She slapped the table several times when the story was over. “I allus thought young Perusse took too much on himself, with his schooling and his hoity-toity wines.”

  “Give him his due, Dusina.” Lussan pushed the bottle across. “The wine is pretty good, and he was willing to give Aleria her money back if she wanted it.”

  The old woman rolled the wine around in her mouth, sucked air across it. “You’re dead right, Aleria. That aftertaste needed dealing with. A touch of Callot grape would have evened it right out.”

  Aleria laughed out loud.

  “What was so funny about that?

  She shook her head. “Not you, Dusina. I was just thinking. All of you people say you’re getting stories about me that you can tell. I just realized I’m getting some of my own. Can you imagine? Here I am, out in the centre of nowhere, and I’m discussing wine with a woman more knowledgeable than most restaurateurs in the Capital.”

  There was a general chuckle, and they began to ask her questions again. She answered as well as she could, and soon the next bottle of wine was also gone. As she placed her empty glass on the table, she was unable to hide the huge yawn that forced its way up from her chest.

  “There, now, the girl’s had a tough day on the road, and setting out for another one tomorrow. We can’t keep her up talking all night.”

  The other two women nodded and Pruelly rose. “I’m getting tired, too.”

  Dusina slapped her hands on the table in her predictable gesture. “You young folks sleep too much. I’ll be up milkin’ goats with the sun, no matter when I go to bed.” But she, too, rose, and made her way to the door.

  They said good night and wished Aleria good roads and dry weather on her Quest. Soon they were lost to the darkness, and Lussan and Aleria turned back into the house.

  “Don’t start cleaning up. I have plenty of time to do that tomorrow.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of letting you clean up alone. We can talk some more while we work.”

  That swayed the older woman, and they made quick work of the dirty dishes. After a moment, Lussan paused, turned to Aleria. “Can you tell me, now? How much of those stories were true?”

  Aleria took a moment to think back. “All of them were. I didn’t tell you anything that wasn’t true, at least for me, at the time it happened. Of course, I realize now, looking back, that I had a pretty slanted view.”

  “But all the events really happened?”

  “That’s right. It wouldn’t be fair to tell you lies.”

  “But you knew about our dreams. Weren’t you worried about spoiling them?”

  “Ah, you’re all old women.” Aleria grinned. “Your most cherished dreams don’t spoil that easily, just because some young nothing tells you some questionable facts. No, I thought you would be happier if I told you the truth. The only dishonesty may have been in what I didn’t tell you.”

  “What didn’t you tell us?”

  “The usual stuff nobody wants to hear. The everyday drudgery, the nastiness, the social climbing, that sort of thing. You know it goes on. It happens everywhere, and in a bunch of pampered young girls it’s probably worse than most. But tonight wasn’t the time for that.”

  “No, it wasn’t. And I thank you for that.” She hung the drying cloth over the oven handle. “And since we’ve stopped coddling about our dreams, I should tell you; we notice all the girls who come through. We can tell that some of them are perfect twitters. We just smile and take the money they throw around.”

  Aleria nodded and grinned. “Just like always.”

  “Just like always. And now I suppose you need to see the last waterworks wonder of my house, and then your room.”

  She opened a small door, which Aleria had assumed was a pantry, to reveal an indoor toilet. Aleria inclined her head in appreciation.

  “I suppose you have these at home.”

  “Of course. You couldn’t manage a city as big as Kingsport unless you had a proper sewage system. At least, you could, but can you imagine the smell?” She leaned into the little room, angling her candle to see all of the brass and porcelain. “It’s very well made.”

  “My son does good work, I’ll give him that.”

  “And treats his mother wonderfully.”

  “He does. But now I’ll stop talking, because it’s been several hours and two bottles of wine, and I’m sure you’d like to make use of his handiwork.”

  “That I would.”

  After that, Lussan showed Aleria to her room, which was rather small because of the space taken up by the toilet. It was cool and the bed was more comfortable than any she had used lately, so she was soon drifting off. Her last thought was that, in spite of a free room, somehow the evening had cost her almost half a crown: a bit over her usual budget. Worth it for several reasons.

  11. Journey’s End

  As the days went on and she neared the end of her trek, she felt a strange conflict inside. Always, she looked ahead to the completion of the Quest, the enjoyment of success. But creeping in was a sadness that it would end. She worried less now about where and how she was going to sleep each night. She looked forward to each new town, wondering whom she would meet and what she would learn from them. Sometimes the inns she chose were too rough, but her status always protected her, if her forthright interest in the patrons might have failed.

  The incident in Snowe was a typical, if extreme, example. She had stayed too long talking with the farm wife who had given her lunch, so she came into the village late, with darkness falling and no clear idea of where to stay. Because of this, she had taken a room at a small, rundown place. The innkeeper probably recognized her, because he made every effort
to be polite, and told her that he was expecting a quiet night. He was wrong.

  Perhaps because of the season, or maybe the day of the week, about fifteen itinerant farm workers decided to make this the headquarters for their evening celebration, and they stormed into the tiny common room while she was eating. The innkeeper shot her a worried glance, but it was too late to do anything. She leaned forward, let her hair fall over her face, and concentrated on her meal.

  She listened, though, and soon realized that the men were far from happy. Something about the payment for their time on the early hay harvest this year – the usual complaint, as far as she could determine – and the quality of the food they were given. That was another one she had heard several times along the way.

  “Hey, there’s not enough room. Can we share your table?”

  “Sure.” She shifted to the end of the bench, turned away from the three dirty, sweaty men who plunked themselves and their drinks down, immediately taking up most of the table. They continued their carping, but she could tell that their attention was being drawn to her. She glanced around, but there was no way out without brushing much too close to one of them. She could tell by their increasing comments about the rich folks and their treatment of the poor that she was meant to hear. Finally, she decided to make her move.

  She shoved back her plate, looked at them, tried to remember how old Dusina had talked. “So you’re bein’ treated bad, are ya?”

  “Aye, we are, Missy.”

  “I wonder. You.” She lifted her chin towards the largest of them. “How much money’d ya make in Snowe last year?”

  “I dunno. About two crowns.”

  “And how many days’d ya work here?”

  “I dunno.”

  “Come on, it was only a year ago. How many feast-days? How many extras?”

  Another man frowned. “We was here two feast days, but we stayed two extra days after.”

  “So that’s fourteen days, right?”

  They glanced at each other. “No, remember, we come two days late. Twelve days we was here last year.”

  “Fine.” She made a show of counting on her fingers. “So that’s twelve days, ’n’ you made two crowns. That’s one crown for six days… that’s twenty pennies, that’s about three and…and a half a day, isn’t it?”

  “I guess so.”

  “So how many days’d ya work this year, and what’d ya get paid?”

  “Ten days, and we got paid one crown and three quarters.”

  She went through the finger counting again. “Well, that’s 35 pennies, for ten days, that’s … three ’n’ a half a day. You got paid the same this year as last year. There’s just less work. Maybe the crops ain’t as good or something. You expect the farmer to pay you extra, when he’s gettin’ less crops in? That’s hardly fair to him, is it?”

  “I guess not.”

  She shrugged. “Bad times all ‘round, I guess. My Dad’s in cartage. Farmer’s sendin’ less grain to the mill, Dad gets less work. I don’t get no new dress this year. I don’t like it, but I ain’t sittin’ here bellyachin’.”

  Another man leaned forward. “Aye, but the food.”

  “Aye. The food’s terrible this year.”

  “You sure? You sure that’s not just you thinkin’ it was better, like you thought with the money?”

  The bigger man shook his head. “No, we all agree on that. The food ain’t as good, and there ain’t as much of it. Platters ’r’ empty, the end of every meal.”

  “You tell the farmers?”

  “Huh? No, I didn’t say nothin’.”

  She looked around, received several shrugs.

  “So the food wasn’t as good, but you didn’t complain. You didn’t tell anyone, you just let it happen for ten days. Then at the end, you come in here, drinkin’ and bellyachin’, disturbin’ my supper, when the guy you should be talkin’ to is home, worryin’ about whether he’ll get through the winter and have enough seed grain for the spring. Maybe he’s wonderin’ whether anyone noticed the food, and thinkin’ he got away with it so he can feed you-all the same way next year.”

  There were several mutters around the table.

  She nodded. “You’re a fine bunch, you are. You remind me of my little brother. Always bitchin’ and complainin’, but you don’t do nothin’ about it. You don’t have to take it, you know. You get together, real polite and firm, and you go to the farmer, and you tell him. Maybe you let him know that you realize the harvest ain’t as good. But you tell him about the food. You’re hard workin’ men, and you need your grub.”

  There were a series of nods around the table. The big fellow reached out and took a long drink from his mug. She leaned over and pushed his hand down. “And you don’t sit here drinkin’ up the courage until you’re half-potted and snarly. You go up there in a drunken mob and he’ll have the proctors on you, they’ll run you out of town and you’ll never work here again.”

  The man muttered, but let the mug sit on the table. Then he looked at her. “You got a pretty smart mouth for a young ‘un.”

  “Don’t you go worryin’ about me. I got my own troubles to deal with. You get out there and solve yours. Or don’t come runnin’ in here, cryin’ that you bin hard done by.” She emptied her own mug, slammed it down.

  “Now, I gotta get some sleep, ‘cause I got a hard day tomorrow. Go on, get outa the way.” She made a shooing motion with her hands, and he rose. “Go now while you’re on your feet and you got the courage.”

  “Aye. Maybe I will.”

  “You do that.” She slid over by the bar and stood, watching with interest to see what he would do.

  The man looked around, realizing he had the attention of his companions. He finally pointed. “Jerl and Bisk. You come with me. We got a meeting with a farmer.”

  The two men hauled themselves to their feet. As they left, the others looked at each other, muttered some, and then, in twos and threes, they all got up, downed their ales and left the inn.

  “There goes my night of profit. What was that all about?”

  She glanced over at the innkeeper. “They’re feeling hard done by because it’s a bad harvest, and they didn’t get the same days of work as last year, and the farmer didn’t manage to feed them as well. I doubt if you’d have sold any more ale. They couldn’t afford to buy it.”

  The innkeeper nodded. “Aye, it ain’t gonna be a good year, that’s the truth.”

  “And if they do come back, I’m not going to be anywhere in sight. See you in the morning.”

  “Good night, Miss. Sleep well.”

  She doubted that she would, although she had pounded the straw mattress into reasonable shape, chasing out a few of its larger residents in the process. She laid her own blankets on top and slid gratefully inside.

  The next morning, she was just finishing her breakfast when the door of the inn slammed open. The big man from the night before stomped in, a grin on his face. “Hey, is that girl here? The one…oh, there you are.”

  “Hi. What’s got you so lit up?”

  “You was right, Missy. You was completely, bang-in-the-middle right. We went up there to one of the farmers and we asked, real polite-like, just the three of us, to talk to him. He asked us into the parlour, wouldn’t you know, and we sat down. I told him, real polite, like you said, about the food and the days of work. And you know what he said?

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Well, he said just what you said he would. He said he was sorry, but the crops weren’t that good. I was real smart. I popped that in about the seed grain for next year, and he nodded, all serious. But he seemed real happy that we was so understandin’, and he invited us all back tonight for what he called a ‘real good supper’. He said he may be havin’ a rough year, but he wouldn’t have the men goin’ off sayin’ he din’t feed ‘em right.

  “So we’re gonna have a real feed tonight. He was goin’ out to butcher a pig first thing this mornin’. And all because o’ you!”

 
She grinned. “I’m real glad about that. But I didn’t do it because of you.”

  “You din’t?”

  “No, I didn’t. I did it because I was a lone girl, stuck in a room full of ruffians, set to get themselves plastered and mad, and I figured I’d better get your minds on somethin’ else.”

  He looked down at her, his jaw dropping. “You’re serious?”

  “You think I’m wanderin’ the countryside like some sort of prophet, solvin’ people’s problems for them?”

  He shrugged. “I thought you was maybe one of those that’ve bin wanderin’ the countryside, stirrin’ people up with their talk ‘bout injustice and rebellion.”

  She laughed. “Don’t you go tellin’ anyone I’m one of those. My Dad’d have the skin off my back, he thought I was doin’ that.”

  The man laughed as well. “Don’t you worry, Missy. Me ‘n the boys’re right pleased with how things worked out, and we wouldn’t want you comin’ to no harm about it.”

  “That’s good, then. I’ll be on my way.”

  “Well, maybe we’ll see you around, Missy, if you’re on the road again. You have trouble with anyone, you tell them you’re a friend of Reynon’s crew, and they better back off.”

  “Thank you, Reynon. It’s kind of you, and I will remember.”

  She nodded to the innkeeper, who seemed to be trying to hide a smile, and headed for the door. As she opened it, she heard the big farm worker’s puzzled voice. “What are you findin’ so funny?”

  As she paused to hitch her pack straight, she heard the innkeeper’s reply. “Reynon, you’ve been done right and proper. Do you know who that girl was that you was talkin’ to?”

  She grinned and strode away.

  That was the closest she came to real danger, although there were a few lonely nights and rainy days. After that incident, she listened more carefully to what the people were saying, and watched their faces as she passed them on the way. It was not a good year, that was certain, and there was an undercurrent of muttering and unease all along the road. Not that she knew if it meant anything. In some people’s opinion, the peasants were always complaining. The carters who worked for her father did their share, although she never heard any of it, of course. However, she noted the unrest as something to discuss with her father when she got back.

  She stayed her final night in Costend, only half a day from the Citadel. She wasn’t in a hurry, and due to her economies over the journey she could afford a decent inn. It wasn’t proper to show up too early or too late, and she thought she was probably a bit slower than most, but well within the expected range. What she wanted most was a good bath and clean clothes, so that she looked her best when she arrived.

  It piqued her curiosity that she saw no other Questers. Most would be coming in from other directions, but she had thought there might be someone on her schedule. But no one showed up at the pleasant inn she chose, and she wasn’t about to go around searching the town.

  So she was walking alone when, just before noon, she swung up the long, sweeping avenue that led to the ancient seat of the Andeberg Dynasty, a dark and imposing fortress that she had always considered past its usefulness. It had been constructed to defend the pass through the mountains to the west, when the great Empire of Domada had held sway there. These days the realm of Domaland was more concerned with commercial conquest, and the most dangerous items that came over the pass were spare parts for the printing presses that produced the daily newspapers in Kingsport and Oudonsford.

  The great stone walls looked bright and cheerful on this early summer day, with banners aflutter and ceremonial bunting around the main gate.

  Someone must have noted her approach, because there was a fair crowd waiting, her mother and father in the front. She strolled in, grinning, to the cheers of the assembly. Praetor Marmen presented her with her Cumulato scroll and a short speech of congratulation. She regarded him as he spoke, and it seemed that he really was enjoying himself. She wondered what kind of idealism had pushed him into his present position.

  Then she chuckled to herself. Maybe the Quest had been good for her. She had certainly never given a second thought to the Praetor’s personality, writing him off as a dry old stick, and that was it.

  “So, how was it, dear?”

  She glanced at her father. “It was more useful than I expected.”

  “Useful? That’s an interesting way to put it.”

  She shook his arm. “It wasn’t any kind of a test, that’s certain. So if it isn’t going to be just an empty ceremony, it has to have some use, and I think it did. I learned some things, and I met some people, and I have some ideas to discuss with you.”

  She could see her father’s glance across to her mother, who smiled. “I remember having similar thoughts when I finished mine.”

  “You did?”

  “You’re not the first to notice that the Quest has become more of a ceremony than a test of ability.”

  Aleria laughed. “So what are we going to do about it?”

  “Nothing, of course. We don’t destroy cherished traditions just because they don’t suit our personal preferences, my dear.”

  “Mother, you are so stuffy sometimes.”

  “Stuffy, is it?” Leniema gave an exaggerated sigh. “Something that comes with maturity, I suppose.”

  She grasped her mother’s arm. “If you don’t mind, I’ll cling to my immaturity a few more years then.”

  Her father chuckled. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. Most of us call it ‘youthful idealism’.”

  “That has a better ring to it, certainly.” She took an arm of each. “What sort of luxurious accommodation have you prepared for your dear daughter, who has suffered the rigours of the road for so long?”

  Again her parents crossed glances, and it was her father who answered. “Since you ask…”

  She laid a dramatic hand against her forehead. “Oh, no! You were unable to find proper accommodation, and we have to camp outside the castle walls?”

  “It’s not quite that bad. We have a beautiful suite for tonight. It’s just that, well, you took a little longer getting here than we expected, and both your mother and I have to scoot back to the Capital tomorrow, first thing.”

  “And then I’ll be moving into the dorms with the rest of the girls.”

  “It seems a waste to have you in that big suite all alone.”

  She looked around. “Am I the first? Any word on Mito or the Twins?”

  “You’re the first, as usual, Aleria.”

  “But not the first of everyone. Just of my friends.”

  Her mother regarded her a moment. “No, not at all the first. Quite in the middle, as it happens. Is it that important to you?”

  She shrugged. “Not really. Once I got on the road I forgot all that and just travelled the best I could. I’d have been here five days ago if I wanted to. It was just better to do it the way I did.”

  “Five days? Nobody came in that early. Even the weaker girls who were given the short routes.”

  She shrugged. “If it was a race I would have been here earlier than that. But it isn’t. Once I got out there I decided to have a good time, so I set my own pace, did what I wanted to do.”

  “And what was that?”

  She grinned at her father. “I met people.”

  “That’s it? You took an extra five days meeting people?”

  “Something like that. I also came in with three crowns of my original allotment left over. No need to touch my emergency cache.”

  “Three crowns left? How did you live on so little?”

  “I was careful where I stayed and I was treated with a great deal of hospitality by many people along the road. You know, there is a completely different reason for the Quest that I had never considered.”

  “What is that?”

  “Not for the girls on Quest. I had it figured from the beginning that it was pretty well meaningless, as far as challenges go. No, it has to do with the people in the towns
we go through. They look for us, you know, and take care of us and tell stories about us. Some of them even dream about what it would be like to be us. It seems to make some kind of important contact between our classes and the people of the realm. I don’t know. It just occurred to me.”

  Her father nodded, looked at her quizzically. “I get the feeling that this Quest has been of more importance to you than you think.”

  “Oh, sure. It’s been a real learning experience. But don’t ever let anyone tell you that it’s any kind of challenge, any kind of accomplishment. It’s a little like going to the Spring Ball. You’ve never done it before, and it prepares you for similar occasions in the future, but you don’t need it, and you don’t need to feel you’ve conquered the world, just because you were there.”

  Another girl had come in while they were talking, and Aleria swept a hand over the dispersing crowd. “Just watch. They’ll all make it. Some because they learned something, some because they cheated, some because of dumb luck, some because the local people helped them the whole distance. It doesn’t matter much, when you look at it that way.”

  She linked her arms through those of her parents. “But we’re here to celebrate and you have to leave tomorrow, so let’s go find our luxurious suite and luxuriate in it.”

  Ignoring their concerned glances, she towed them away.

  12. A New Plan

  Mito wandered in the next day, looking as if she had just been for a stroll in the garden, a small bouquet of flowers in her hand. Her pack looked half the size of Aleria’s and she was dressed plainly, but she looked happy. Aleria rushed over to seize her in a bear hug. “How did it go?”

  “It was wonderful. Everyone was so nice to me. It rained a couple of days, but that was all. I really enjoyed myself.”

  “What? No trials, no tribulations? No close escapes, near-death experiences?”

  Mito grinned. “There was one carter who seemed to be in a hurry, but he slowed down when I asked him to.”

  “You were riding with a carter?”

  Mito looked uncomfortable. “You know, people kept organizing rides for me to the next town, and it seemed so impolite to refuse…”

  “People arranged rides for you.”

  “Wasn’t that nice of them? You know, I don’t think very many of them knew I was on Quest. What about you?”

  Aleria frowned. “It’s hard to tell, isn’t it? I think more people know us than let on. In fact, I‘m sure of it, because someone told me. But many of them are so pleased to have spotted you, they just have to let you know. It’s sort of a game they play. But you’re good with people. If you don’t think you were recognized much, you probably weren’t.”

  Mito giggled. “There was one woman I told. I had to, because she was going so far out of her way to do all these things for me, and finally I had to tell her, in order to let me do it on my own. She was so surprised. Then she wanted to do a whole lot more. It was quite difficult at the time, but I laughed about it afterwards.”

  Aleria nodded. “Sounds about right. I go bashing through, fighting off bandits, wolves and thunderstorms, and you waltz through with everybody helping. Yes, that sounds normal.”

  “Did you really meet bandits and wolves?”

  “No wolves, at any rate. I’ll tell you about the bandit. Now, I have a surprise for you. Come this way.”

  She grabbed Mito’s pack from her and led the way up the main street of the Citadel.

  “I thought the girls’ dorms were over there…”

  “That they are, but my parents were here, waiting to greet me, and they had a suite in one of the big guest houses. I persuaded them to let me keep it, for when you and the Twins showed up.”

  “A suite?”

  “We’re not on Quest any more. We can use all the money we didn’t spend, and eat fancy food to make up for our starvation on the road.”

  Mito looked down at her waistline. “I don’t think I starved very much, as I recall.”

  “I imagine there were all number of people wanting to take you in and pat you on the head and feed you.”

  Mito’s nose lifted. “I did not get patted on the head. Well, only once, and she was old, and I didn’t want to embarrass her, so I let her.”

  Aleria laughed. “Once again we prove that this whole Quest is a joke.”

  “How so?”

  “I sounds like you had a nice holiday in the country, meeting the people and getting fat. Some challenge.”

  Mito smiled. “It really wasn’t very hard, was it?”

  “No. I can’t wait to hear the stories, though. Some of those girls will have been through blizzards and floods and dealt with marauding savages and wild animals, the whole thing. Just wait.”

  As the girls trickled in over the next three days, Aleria’s predictions proved exaggerated, but not by much. Looked at from a cynical point of view, most of the troubles her classmates had experienced occurred through their own stupidity or ignorance, and most of them got out of trouble not by thinking or learning anything, but by a liberal application of money or reliance on their rank. By the time the last awards were given out, Aleria had lost any sense of accomplishment she might have felt.

  As she stood in the receiving line at the Arrival Reception, she looked around at the girls of her class and she saw them for what they were: well-brought-up children of the ruling class, with a full store of knowledge, style and social grace. But few of them with enough guts or talent to get through any sort of real trouble.

  She thought of Dusina, back in Dargilan, with her arthritic hands and her weathered face, refusing to give up her sense of humour no matter what old age brought her. Dusina’s friends, who took their enjoyment when they could in a dull and lonely life and kept their small dreams stoked with every scrap of wonder they could glean.

  She looked around and wondered who would be the slightest bit interested in the lives of those women. Mito would understand. The rest of them wouldn’t. To be fair, maybe Gita; she was a deep thinker. The others?

  She stared once more at the shining faces around her. She would probably never bring up the topic. It would be too disappointing to find out.

  Once the ceremony was over, the girls were all gathered together in the Ladies’ Dorms, because there were other lessons and duties to accomplish. Aleria left the suite without a backwards glance. The rooms she stayed in were beginning to be less important to her. No spiders in the bed, no leaks in the roof and she was happy.

  Others weren’t happy, of course, complaining about the rooms, the beds, the food. Aleria found it possible to ignore them, but when they started to complain about how rude the peasants were, how they had to pay high prices for everything, she had to speak up.

  Aleria leaned over closer. “So you learned something, Plendinta. You pay for the privilege of letting people know how much better you are.”

  The other girl looked up at her. “You certainly do.”

  For once, Aleria couldn’t think of anything to say. She held the other’s gaze for a moment, then turned away.

  As they were walking down the corridor, she turned to her friend. “Is it true, Mito? Do I really lord it over the others?”

  “Sometimes.” Mito walked a few paces, then grinned. “But only when they need it.”

  The following day, Aleria was alone in the courtyard. She was bored enough to be practising one of the warm-up routines for barehand when Master Ogima walked by. She stopped, feeling guilty because she knew she had not been putting her best effort into it.

  “The third punch in the last block-punch-kick sequence.”

  She repeated the move, held the position.

  “That’s it.” He walked around her. “You are out of balance at that point. If your opponent applied pressure…here…” A touch of his finger against her shoulder, and she had to shift her footing.

  “I see. Thank you. I wasn’t trying very hard.”

  “It is sometimes a good thing to go through the motions and let the mind work elsew
here. When you do that pattern at full speed, you flow through that weak point without noticing. Only when you are working slowly could I see it.”

  “Thank you, Master Ogima. I was just wondering why we even take these lessons.”

  “You were wondering that, were you?” He sat on a nearby stone bench and looked up at her. “That is one thought I never heard from you during your schooling. I thought you rather enjoyed our practices.”

  “I did. I still do. But what use are they?”

  He smiled. “That, I have heard before.”

  She turned to face him. “Master Ogima, how often does anyone have trouble on the Quest?”

  He sized her up for a moment. “Not often.”

  That fitted. “How long is it since anyone had trouble? Serious trouble, I mean.”

  He seemed reluctant to answer. “Well… I think it was …eleven years ago, one girl got a broken leg.”

  “How did that happen?”

  “A cart she hitched a ride in overturned.”

  Aleria’s open hands came down with a slap on her thighs. “That could happen to me on one of my father’s freight wagons!”

  “True.”

  So she was right. The whole thing was a farce. “But once this must have been a serious ritual.”

  “A hundred years ago, participants might be waylaid, robbed, even killed. But I know what you’re thinking. Nowadays, a girl travelling alone by the main road isn’t in much danger. Of course in those days they were better trained than you are. Only the best even tried.”

  “You mean all our training…?”

  His raised hand anticipated her thought. “Of course your training is worth something. It keeps you in good physical shape, and the techniques you have learned are real. If applied with enough will, they can injure an opponent.” His shoulders rose in a faint shrug. “In my opinion, few of the candidates, unless hysterical, would have enough mental strength to make an attack with enough force to give a fighting man more than a moment’s pause.”

  “What you are telling me is that all my training has been a joke. That the Quest has been a joke.”

  “I thought that was what you were telling me. I would prefer to look at it more realistically: as a bit of a warning. Don’t consider that you are prepared for going it on your own down any lane you might wish to travel. Life isn’t quite so pleasant out on the back roads, and some of the people are equally unsavoury.”

  “You’ve heard all this before, haven’t you?”

  He nodded. “Not often enough for my peace of mind. Only a few seem to catch on. Fewer still ask about it.”

  “What do you do for those who ask?”

  Again he shrugged.

  She had rarely seen the old instructor less sure of himself, and it fuelled her anger. “Well, I might just have to do something for myself. I might just light out home again without all your fake protection. I might look for some of those back roads I’m supposed to be so afraid of, to see if they’re as bad as you say.”

  “Do not do something rash, Aleria.”

  “How am I going to find out about myself if I don’t? Your precious Quest hasn’t told me a thing.” She stood over him, willing him to answer her, but no response came. This made her angrier still, and she whirled away from him, slamming the door behind her as she strode inside. Several heads rose towards her in the anteroom, but she was past noticing. She grabbed her cloak strode out of the fortress, glaring down the guards at the gate who looked half inclined to question her.

  She returned several hours later, no longer angry, but still unsatisfied. Deep in thought, she sought out Mito in her room. “Can I talk to you?”

  “You need to ask?”

  Aleria stopped frowning and plopped down on the bed facing her friend. “All right. So what if the Quest is sham? It does teach us something. I learned a lot about travelling, come to think of it. I learned some of the dangers, I learned about finding rides, choosing inns, navigating without proper maps.

  “Do you remember how hard it was, the first time you had to go up to a stranger and ask for directions?”

  Mito’s brow furrowed for a moment. “Not really.”

  “It was for me. I couldn’t decide who to talk to. Several times I thought I would ask someone, and at the last moment they didn’t look right, and I went on. Finally I realized how many hours of walking I might be wasting, going the wrong direction, so I just got up the nerve and asked an old lady. Of course, she was very nice, we had a little chat, and on I went. After that it got easier.”

  “I suppose some people have to have practice at asking for help.”

  “I suppose. Anyway, you get my point. I have some experience, now. I should be able to do all right on my own.”

  “Aleria, what do you have in mind?”

  “Exactly what I told Master Ogima. I’m going to make my own way back. Just like the Quest, but without help.”

  Mito raised her eyebrows. “And why are you discussing it with me?”

  “I’m not sure. I guess so you’ll tell me if I’m doing something really stupid. I’m not angry now, like I was this morning. I might even listen to reason!”

  “That would be a change.”

  “Mito!” She aimed a pillow at her friend’s head.

  Mito ducked easily, laughing. “There you go, being reasonable again.”

  Aleria sat down, leaning forward. “But Mito, you understand. You know what I’m like. For most people, the Quest is enough. But not for me. I hoped it would give me a challenge, prove something about my abilities to handle the real world. I know it didn’t. So what am I going to do next?”

  Mito nodded. “You’re going to go out and find some stunt which does prove something.”

  “Right. And if I don’t, I’m going to go home and be miserable.”

  “And then you’ll find something stupid to do, just to prove yourself. And you’ll keep on doing more and more stupid things until you get into some real trouble. You’re an adult now, and you’ll have to take the full responsibility. Need I go on?”

  “You know me too well. That’s the problem. I’ve got to do something.”

  “And you’re trying to decide whether this is less stupid than the other alternatives.”

  “I guess that’s it. What do you think?”

  “Well, at least if you get into trouble, there won’t be a scandal. It’s not that kind of stunt.”

  “True.”

  “Of course, I imagine your family would rather have you in a minor scandal than dead on the road.”

  “I’m not so sure about that. Oh, of course they would rather have me alive. I know that. But think about it. What good am I to them, if I’m just going to go home and cause trouble? I’m just not cut out to play the ‘good little wifey’ game like most of the girls. I’ll be better off making this trip, proving something to myself, and if I don’t come back, maybe we’re all better off.”

  Mito sat staring at her for a long time.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I never knew you felt that way. You’re always the strong one, the confident one. I never thought you’d place such a low value on yourself.”

  “I’m not placing a low value on myself. I’m just being realistic.”

  The dark-haired girl shook her head.

  “Think of it this way. I’m trying to improve myself. If I succeed at a new Quest, a real one, I’ll be a better person. I’ll be happier with myself. I need challenge, Mito; you know that. To have real challenge, you have to have risks. Real risks. Besides which, I have every confidence I’m going to come back alive. This isn’t some half-used trail through the jungles of Shaeldit. This is through the middle of the kingdom! It’s not going to be that bad.”

  It was her friend’s turn to lean forward for emphasis. “It could be that bad. You have to go into this believing that it could be. None of us knows the truth about how dangerous it is out there. It is impossible to tell how much help we got because of the Quest. Maybe there was an ag
ent in every town, even in every inn. Who knows?”

  “I agree with you. I’m not going to be stupid about this. The whole idea is to prove I can do it properly. I’m going to be prepared and very careful. Proper clothes, not too pretty, but sensible. Proper equipment. Enough money.”

  “You can have the rest of mine.”

  “Mito, I can’t take your money.”

  “Of course you can. I don’t need it and you can pay me back when you finish. Don’t be stupid. You are going to do this properly, remember?”

  “Right. I’ll take your money and sew it into the hem of my coat. As emergency funds.”

  “Good idea. And take this as well.” Mito slid up her skirt to reveal a small hideaway dagger strapped just above her knee.

  “Mito! Where did you get something like that?”

  The girl ducked her head to fumble with the straps, and also to hide a blush. “It was a gift.”

  Aleria waited, but no more information was forthcoming. Her friend seemed to be in real distress, so she decided not to push it. “Thank you. I’ll feel much better, having an extra weapon. Now, what road should I take?”

  Mito pitched into the new subject with relief. “I don’t suppose you’ll be taking the straight route.”

  “What good would that do? They’ve all just had the Quest class go through. They’d probably recognize one of us coming back. No, I think the best thing is to make it look like I’m going that direction, then duck out to the north, through the Duchy of Canah. There’s a good road out that way, well maintained and well used. I’m not looking for trouble.”

  “Aleria.” Sudden concern showed on Mito’s face. “What do you want me to do? What do I tell them?”

  Then Aleria realized what she had done. “I’m sorry, Mito! You are going to be stuck in the middle of this, aren’t you? They are going to be questioning you, over and over, to figure out how to find me and bring me back.”

  “That’s all right. I don’t mind.”

  “You don’t mind! When my father starts in on you, all concerned for my safety, you won’t like it much, believe me.”

  Mito’s back straightened. “Listen, Aleria. You have stood up for me countless times over the past years. This is my turn. You are going out on an uncomfortable, difficult, maybe dangerous, journey. The least I can do is stay home and take some of the pressure.”

  Aleria looked at her friend with new respect. Then she laughed gleefully and slapped her shoulder. “That’s the attitude!

  She leaned forward with new enthusiasm. “I think it’s best that you don’t tell them anything. Not at first. I don’t want you to lie. They’ll assume I took the shortest route. You only tell them if I’m late.”

  “How late is late?”

  “What do you think? What about one week longer than the Quest time?”

  “That’s too long. The route through Canah is only two days longer. I’ll give you two more days after that, and then I’ll send them on the right road.”

  “Good enough.” She realized again what a good friend she had, so much better than all the bubbleheads in her class. “Mito, just do your best. I trust you to say what you think is right. Whatever you do, I won’t be angry. Anything more?”

  “Are you going to take a tent?”

  “I don’t think so. For the first few nights I’ll have to sleep out, but the area is well populated and probably safe. I’ll hide out in barns if the weather’s bad. Once I know I’m away and clear, I’ll stay at inns. I have enough money to do that if I’m careful. I’ll tie another blanket across the top of my pack, and that will serve.”

  “Sounds rough to me. Are you sure?”

  “I’m not expecting this to be a Sunday stroll.”

  “I suppose not. Well, rather you than me.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re very welcome. I’ll think of you when I’m at home, lounging around the baths, sipping iced wine.” She broke off to duck a barrage of pillows.

  “I’ll go tomorrow, then.”

  “No, the next day.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you don’t want to miss the Reception tomorrow night. And because it will take us time to get the proper gear together, carefully and quietly.”

  “Granted. No sense rushing it and getting caught. Now, what do I need…?”

  13. Much More Like It

  Getting out of the Citadel was a bit of a challenge, but they managed it. Hana and Gita were heading home the day after the Reception, as their family tradition was to spend the first week of the holiday floating down the Chanaan river to the Capital on one of anDennal’s huge rafts of logs. Aleria slipped out early the same morning, leaving Mito to spread word that she had gone with the Dennals.

  For the first few days, Aleria was pleased. Her time on the road had hardened her, and the weather was fine. However, sleeping out turned out to be more trouble than she had expected. Most barns were too close to the main buildings, protected by the farm dogs. The storage sheds in the fields were either locked or empty of anything soft to sleep on. The third night, after creeping around two prosperous farms in the rain, she got tired of acting like a criminal and took the next empty shed, spending the night on the hard floor, but at least under a dry roof.

  As the days of hiking passed, she found that she was travelling through rougher territory. The mountains were closing in from the northwest, and there were more hills, more forests, less civilization. As the farms got farther apart they also grew more locked and guarded, and sleeping spots became more of a problem. She started to think about using an inn.

  The fifth night, cursing her lack of a map, she found herself at sunset on a barren stretch of road with no farm in sight and no idea of how close the next town was. Shrugging mentally, she prepared to sleep out. A huge spruce tree almost out of sight of the road provided protection from the dew, and careful reconnaissance showed her that a small hillock hid her fire as well. Curled in the deep bed of needles at the base of the tree, her economical fire safely set on flat rocks, she was quite proud of herself. She munched her toasted bread and cheese, musing at what a bore camping was. There was a mild pleasure in staring into the ever-changing coals, watching the flickering of tiny flames. It got one to thinking. The warm red light somehow brought back the upstairs rooms at the Sailor’s Desire. Her face heated when she thought of Kalmein. Then she tossed her head. What did she owe him? He had a good time, for most of the night anyway. A small voice tried to remind her about going through with promises, but she pushed it aside. She had made no promises. At least not spoken ones. If he had misinterpreted, that was his problem. And a girl had the right to change her mind, didn’t she? Soothed by thoughts of this sort, she curled tighter in her blanket and fell asleep.

  Her head came up, and she stared around without moving. What had wakened her? There was no sound. She waited a while longer, peering into the darkness. The fire was a mound of ashes, its glow almost gone. Perhaps she should replenish it, but she was so warm, here in her nest.

  There it was. A sound. Something was moving through the brush. Something big, by the sound of it. Big, and confident enough not to worry about how much noise it made. Was it a person? The rustling sounds moved across in front of her, then stopped. Then she heard a snuffling sound. Right where she had walked to the tree. Not a person. A bear? For a moment she was frozen with fear. What did bears do? Weren’t they supposed to be afraid of people? This one obviously wasn’t. The snuffling stopped, and she waited, silent.

  Should she light up the fire, or stay quiet and hope it went away? There was a long stillness. Then the sounds began, slowly, cautiously. They were coming towards her! They stopped. Straining her eyes, she realized that there was a darker blot in the darkness outside the skirt of the tree branches. A large blot, and the snuffling noises came again. Then, lit from below by the dim, red glow of the coals, she could make out the short snout, the rounded ears, and the faint glow of two dark eyes, staring at her, edging forward.

&nb
sp; Too late to think of the fire. Her hand crept out to her pack, and she gently dragged it towards her. Her eyes never leaving the craggy visage in front of her, she fumbled out Mito’s dagger, stuffed her blanket into the pack. Then, ever so slowly, she edged to her feet, backing against the trunk of the tree. The branches were close together here, and she groped with her hand behind her until she found one strong enough to bear her weight. It was difficult to start the climb with her back to the tree, knife and pack in her hands, but she somehow felt that, should she take her eyes from the bear’s, it would attack. Choking down a hysterical giggle, she took the knife in her teeth like a bandit from a folk tale. Trying not to hurry, she wormed her way upward, pushing her pack ahead of her, ignoring the twigs that caught and pulled at her clothing, hair and skin. When she thought she was twice her height into the tree she stopped and listened, peering down through the darkness, her hand clutching the hilt of Mito’s tiny knife.

  She could hear the snuffling again, closer now, and a rank smell wafted up to her. The bear investigated her little camp, stopping several times, and she could picture it peering up at her, deciding. She realized that she could still see the glow of her campfire, but then it was blotted out as the bear investigated that, too. It must not have liked what it smelled, or maybe it burned its nose, because there was a louder “whoof!” a crackling of branches, and she could see the coals again. A few smaller “whoofs” and then she could hear the rustling of the bushes moving away from her tree.

  She realized that a cold sweat was running down the centre of her back and that her fingers were clenched to the branch. She made herself relax. Well, it was gone for the moment. What to do now? Go down and make up the fire? No, it would take too long and the bear might come back. Besides which, it would just burn down again and she’d have to stay awake to keep it lit.

  No, the only way she would feel safe was up in the tree. Feeling around, she could tell that she was sitting where two large branches joined the trunk. If she put her back against the main stem, and leaned her arms on another branch to her left, she just might be able to get comfortable…

  It took several long minutes of squirming around, but just as her heartbeat began to slow, she found a position that was semi-comfortable and she finally drifted off…

  …to be roused by the feeling of falling. She jerked awake, grabbing the branch. She tried to keep the sleepy feeling, but realized it was no good. She was not going to get to sleep if she was afraid of falling off the branch. And she wasn’t going back to the ground. Digging around in her pack, she found her long sash. She wound it around her torso, then around the branch. She sagged into it. Yes, it would hold her. Again, she drifted off to a light sleep, vaguely conscious of her uncomfortable position, of the hard branches digging into her, the prickly bark under her hands. But she slept.

 

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