Windswept (The Mapweaver Chronicles Book 1)

by Kaitlin Bellamy

“Of course I will!” said Borric. “He’s family! Besides which, he can keep that kitchen running with his eyes shut. That’s more than enough to make him a worthy suitor.”

  Fox ran his fingers through his hair in nervous frustration. He was very close to Borric, because of Lai, but he felt that at this particular moment, he might be interfering a bit too much in the family’s personal life. And then, just as Fox opened his mouth, unsure of exactly what he was going to say, Neil stepped in.

  “Doesn’t he live in the kitchen?” he asked casually.

  “Yep,” said Borric. “Slept there ever since he was ...” And then it hit him. The boys watched as the realization dawned on his face. Then he leaned back with a satisfied smile on his face. “You want me to give him a room.”

  “And make him your official heir,” said Fox. “You’re already training him to run the place anyway! They could both live here, and she already knows her way around.”

  Above them, they could hear the heavy footsteps of guests beginning to trickle back into the Five Sides. Fox waited, silently pleading with Borric, careful not to push too hard.

  Then Borric clapped his hands together. “It’s perfect!” As Fox breathed a sigh of relief, Borric said, “We’ll give them one of the bigger rooms at the far end. Much more space, and a little privacy as well.” He stood, the crate beneath him creaking with the relief of his bulk. “Fox, run on up and tell Picck I’d like to see him. Then find Beckweed, tell him we’ve got an offer in mind for his daughter.” As Fox sprang to do as he was told, Borric called up the stairs after him.

  “And tell Lai she’ll have to take care of the wagers for awhile! Just until I’m finished with this!”

  But the bit about Lai proved unnecessary. As Fox stepped back into the rapidly-filling common room, he found her perched on top of the bar, calmly managing the hoards clamoring for their payouts. Neil clapped Fox on the shoulder and said, “I’ll get Picck. You find the farmer.”

  They parted ways, Neil disappearing into the kitchen and Fox scanning the crowd for Rose’s father. All around him, he could hear snatches of conversation about the Contests. The final wrestling match, it seemed, had been an incredible bout. In fact, talk appeared split evenly between Filia’s suitors and Neil’s fight. Pausing briefly in his search for Farmer Beckweed, Fox listened in on an intense discussion between two Thiccans, trying to determine from their excited talk who finally won Filia’s hand. But their conversation gave away nothing, and just as Fox leaned in to ask one of them outright, the tavern door swung open again, rendering both his questions about Filia and his search for her father unnecessary.

  Farmer Beckweed came in smiling and talking loudly, with Filia on his arm. On his other side was the charming stranger from Hatcher Valley, looking tired but pleased with himself. “Drinks!” shouted Beckweed. “A hot spice for me and my newest son!” The tavern cheered in welcome, and Beckweed led his small party to seats by the fire. Now was the best time, with Beckweed in a cheerful and gracious mood. As Beckweed made his way across the common room, Fox wound his way through the crowd to intercept him. He ducked briefly behind the counter to grab a basket of bread. As he passed Lai he said, “Pay you back for these! I’ll explain later!” And then, with his plan only half-formed and the full awareness that this might be Picck’s one chance at getting the girl of his dreams, Fox presented himself to Farmer Beckweed.

  “Fresh sticky buns!” he said confidently, offering the basket to Beckweed. “Compliments of the kitchen. And congratulations on the wonderful match of your daughter, sir!”

  “Yes, it is wonderful isn’t it?” said Beckweed, clapping his new son-in-law on the shoulder. “Fine young man he is, and just in time! My Filia here was one long winter away from running off with the next passing waresman!” He laughed heartily, the company around him joining in. And Fox, glancing over at Filia, was startled. The beautiful, regal young woman was staring at the back of her father’s head with nothing short of loathing. But in a moment, her face changed again, and she laughed politely with everyone else and tossed her dark hair elegantly over her shoulders.

  “Well, I thank the kitchen for these,” said Beckweed, moving to settle himself by the fire, but Fox cut in quickly.

  “Before you get too comfortable, sir,” he said, “would you mind following me? The tavern master has something to discuss with you.” When Beckweed frowned slightly, Fox added, “A proposition. Something to benefit you both, I think. I promise, we’ll have you back to the fire and celebrating your triumph in no time!”

  Beckweed sighed and shrugged. “Where’s the harm?” He turned to his companions and said “But when I return, a full account of the fight that won my daughter’s hand! Eh?” All those in earshot cheered, and Beckweed followed Fox back across the tavern and down into the storerooms. Borric was waiting for him, along with a terrified and thoroughly confused-looking Picck.

  “So what’s this about a proposition then?” said Beckweed. Borric glanced over the farmer’s shoulder at Fox and gestured with his head, signaling he should wait outside. Fox obliged, retreating back to the stairwell as Neil, who Fox hadn’t even noticed, detached himself from the shadows to join him. They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the muffled voices behind the storeroom door.

  “What if the farmer says no?” asked Neil.

  “Then they don’t marry,” said Fox.

  “Just like that? Rose has no say?”

  Fox settled himself on a stair, thinking. “I guess she does,” he said, “but no one in the valley goes against the father’s wishes. The few times it does happen, the rebellious child is cut off. The parents don’t help with building the new house, or give them any marriage gifts ... It’s rare. And it’s dangerous. New couples usually can’t survive here without a little help.”

  Neil sat beside Fox and stretched his long legs out with a groan. “People have such odd customs. Everywhere I go, they’re different.” He chuckled softly to himself. “There’s a small town in Lidiom where each woman catches a fish and feeds it her ring, then releases it back into the lake. And all the suitors catch a fish, gut it, and whoever’s ring they find is their bride.”

  When Fox shook his head, Neil laughed even harder. “Of course when we passed through town, Otter thought it would be funny to feed one of the fish about nine rings, and watch the townsfolk argue over which was which. Oh, what a day that was.”

  Fox laughed, imagining the confusion. And then he asked a question that had been on his mind for a good part of the day. “How do the Shavid decide who they marry?”

  “It’s not so complicated,” said Neil. “They fall in love. Just like your Picck and Rose. It’s not so much about connections or joining families together. They travel with the wind, following their instincts and their passions. You can’t put a price on love, so they don’t try.” He leaned back, propping his head on a higher step. “Radda met his wife when he was traveling with another company and stole her heart away from the man who had been courting her. To this day, Radda swears the wind took him there just so he could meet her.” And they lapsed back into silence, punctuated every so often by the sound of what Fox hoped was friendly negotiating.

  Soon, he’d be at the age where fathers started to size him up, and daughters started to decide if he was worthy of their attention. He was expected to start courting somebody, and proving that his skills were enough to recommend him as a husband. He’d seen all sorts of marriages in the valley. Some strong and happy, like his parents or Fire Merchant Terric and his new wife. And he was sure that if Picck and Rose were given Beckweed’s blessing, they would be positively blissful. But then there were the wives who simply tolerated their husbands. Women like Filia, who were set up merely to be comfortable. Fox couldn’t imagine being stuck in a marriage like that. He’d much rather not be married at all.

  The storeroom door swung open suddenly, and Fox scrambled to his feet. Then Beckweed and Borric emerged, laughing and shaking hands, with Picck right behind them, looking rathe
r dazed. The whole group made their way upstairs to the common room, where Beckweed called for order and attention.

  “It seems that today is a day for celebrating!” he said, once the room had quieted. “To all those happy matches made in today’s contests, I say hurrah!”

  “Hurrah!” the tavern echoed, and applause broke out briefly before Beckweed silenced them again with a raise of his hand.

  “And a special welcome to the newcomers to our humble valley. Go on, stand up boys. Trent Fillwater from Edgewood.” A polite applause for the hulking and moody Trent. “And to the young men from Hatcher Valley, Ennit and my new son Rale!” Louder applause for these two. The Hatcher suitors seemed much nicer than Trent, and they both seemed happy to be there. “We say welcome to the family of our valley! We hope you’ll be right at home!” And then he smiled cheerfully. “But one more announcement! It seems that today is not only the day that I pair off my daughter Filia, but the day I make a match for my youngest! Rose! Where are you, girl?”

  Rose had been leaning against the kitchen doorframe, watching her father’s speech. But now, as every eye in the tavern turned to her, she straightened up, adjusting her apron nervously and tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

  “Come here!” As Rose edged uneasily forward to her father’s open arms, Beckweed said, “Tonight, I celebrate the end of a father’s duties! I pair off my last child, my youngest daughter! And we celebrate the happy union of Rose and Borric’s heir, Picck Blackroot!”

  All of Rose’s nervousness seemed to vanish at once, and her face lit up with pure delight. As the tavern cheered, she threw herself into Picck’s arms and kissed him full on the mouth. Laugher and even more applause filled the air, and Beckweed chuckled and made his way back to his spot by the fire, ordering even more drinks. As singing began to fill the common room, Fox watched the newly betrothed couple, locked in a passionate embrace. That’s how it should be, he thought. Not like Filia, only waiting for something better to come along. But like Picck and Rose, oblivious to the world. Happier than anything with just each other.

  He caught a glimpse of Lai, perched on the counter top and singing with the rest of the crowd, and she waved at him. He waved back and gestured to her, silently asking if she needed help. Her smile and the shake of her head said no, he should go enjoy himself. As he and Neil settled in for the night around the center fire pit, Fox put his own marriage out of his mind. It was years away. And besides, who would ever want to marry him?

  Chapter Seven

  Shivers

  Neil became something of a fascination that night. Young women kept coming up to him, praising his performance in his match against Terric and batting their eyelashes. Even Kimic Lillywhite stopped by, ignoring Fox completely and instead clinging to Neil’s arm and brazenly running her fingers through his hair. Fox shook his head at it all, a small part of him jealous of the older boy’s skill and strength.

  “I could teach you, you know,” said Neil during one of the brief moments they were left to themselves.

  “Teach me?”

  “To fight. As long as I’m here, I could show you a few tricks. If you’re interested.”

  Fox perked up, imagining thrashing one of the bigger boys, and smiled. “When? Now?”

  Neil chuckled. “Come by the camp in the morning if you’d like. If your folks can spare you, that is.”

  Tomorrow was the start of the planting season in Thicca Valley. Work began before the sun was even up. But for Fox and Father, things were a bit different. The bulk of their work came later, during the summer when the game was bigger. Springtime was for routine cleaning and trap maintenance, as well as helping Mother in their small garden. But Fox himself was often free to pursue any chores he himself felt were necessary. In fact, in early spring when his parents were enjoying each other’s company after the long winter apart, Fox was encouraged to spend his time elsewhere.

  He smiled. “I’ll be there!”

  The rest of the evening passed enjoyably, but ended early. Farmers and miners headed home to get to sleep, preparing for the start of the working months. With the tavern mostly empty, the Shavid also returned to their campsite, with the exception of Radda, who sat talking in a corner with Borric for a long while. Finally, as Neil excused himself for the night, Fox wandered back into the kitchen to help clean up.

  Picck and Rose were saying their goodbyes at the courtyard door, Picck kissing Rose gently on the forehead before sending her off home. He watched her go, leaning against the doorframe as Fox quietly joined Lai in mopping up the floor. Then, finally, he backed into the kitchen and shut the door with a contented sigh. He turned, a stupid grin spread across his face, and Fox couldn’t even bring himself to tease him. Instead, the three of them tidied up the kitchen and talked over some of their favorite moments of the contests. They got as far as arguing over who would win a fight, Neil or Rale the Hatcher champion, when Fox stopped mid-sentence. A sudden chill passed over him that had nothing to do with the cold.

  “Fox?” Lai was watching him, a slight concerned frown on her face. “Everything alright?”

  “Yeah,” grunted Fox, shaking himself. He was quiet for awhile after that, listening to Lai and Picck’s argument but not adding anything himself. Twice more as he worked, he felt an odd shiver. But the feeling that passed over his skin was not the cold of a drafty kitchen in winter, but of something else entirely. Ever so briefly, it was the cold of being naked in the snow. Intense and painful, and completely exposed. After the third time this happened, Fox excused himself, saying he wasn’t feeling well and he’d better head home to bed. He could feel Lai watching him as he left, and so he didn’t stop until he was halfway home. Then, on his way up the hill leading toward his family’s property, he paused for a moment, waiting to see if it would happen again. He breathed deeply, standing perfectly still in the darkness. And then, as a chill breeze wound its way around him, Fox felt it again. A bone-numbing shiver, accompanied by a dozen different smells that weren’t from Thicca Valley. Charred wood and ash. He could almost taste a thick, heavy smoke on his tongue, his eyes watering. He started to cough and shake, wracked with a cold much sharper than the mild spring air around him.

  Somewhere to the north, something terrible was happening. In the same way that he could smell the snow, and the same way he knew when the caravan would arrive, he could feel something in the air. A fire, in some town a day or so away. And there was a hint of fear in the air, the wild panic of a trapped animal before the slaughter.

  And then the feeling passed, leaving Fox flat on his back on the frozen ground. He couldn’t even remember falling down. For a moment he lay still, breathing deep. The air in Thicca Valley was clear and clean, filled with the comforting smells of hearth fires and fresh berries. He waited until he was calmer, then pulled himself to his feet and trudged the rest of the way home. His parents were already asleep. He crept quietly up to his nook without waking them and slipped into bed, his mind racing.

  Whatever had just happened, he didn’t know how to explain it. Or who to talk to. Should he just keep it to himself? The answer came to him in an instant: Lai. She knew his other “secret,” the fact that he’d predicted the arrival of the caravan. And this, if it was anything other than sheer madness, was so much more than that. He would tell her, and no one else.

  But Lai was as busy as any farmer for the next few days, running around town on her father’s errands and helping with the wedding plans for Rose and Picck. And so Fox kept himself busy, doing his best to ignore the nagging feeling in his chest that something wasn’t right. He spent his mornings at the Shavid camp, learning how to throw simple punches and practicing sparring with the musicians. He fished with the players and some of the valley sons, those too young to work in the mines. He mended traps, hunted smaller game and traded their pelts with Shavid and Thiccans alike. But everywhere he went, he found himself looking over his shoulder for an unknown danger. He was constantly restless, sleeping very little, and he often found himse
lf spending his nights in the stable with Cobb. He groomed the pony over and over again, singing quietly and listening to the sounds of the sleeping valley.

  And he waited. Sure that something was coming, and just as sure that he couldn’t stop it. Why, of all people, was he the one who could feel it? And why was he so afraid of telling anyone?

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  It was just past dawn, five days after the Contests. Fox was eating breakfast at the camp with Neil and Merrick, the poor young apprentice who was always forced to play a woman. Merrick was a friendly youth, with tightly curled red-gold hair and an uncanny gift for bird calls. He was only silent when he was eating, and even then he carried on talking between each bite. He would start into one story, stuff his face with bread, and then pick an entirely different tale to tell when he’d swallowed. Fox rather enjoyed having him around though, scattered as he was.

  As they finished eating, Neil stretched and stood, dusting crumbs from his hands. “Well, James and Donlan want me to scribe for them this morning.”

  “What are they working on?” asked Merrick through a mouthful of ham.

  Neil shrugged. “James told me, but honestly I wasn’t really listening.” The boys chuckled, and Neil headed off, leaving Fox and Merrick to finish their breakfast.

  “Scribe?” Fox asked.

  Merrick swallowed. “For the plays. Sometimes we need someone to write down what we’re doing, in case there’s something really good and we forget.” He took another bite and continued, trying not to spray his food across the fire. “Plays are half instinct, and half rehearsed. And having Neil around has really helped us with the rehearsed part.”

  “So, do many of the Shavid troupes have Dervishes? Like Neil?”

  “It’s rare,” said Merrick, shaking his head and swallowing again. “But sometimes you get an Unblessed sha in a group.” Fox didn’t even get a chance to ask the question before Merrick launched into an explanation. “They’re born into a Shavid family, but they don’t have any Blessings or special talents, so they usually tag along, just learning the skills and doing what Neil does. Sometimes they leave and settle down in some town like a normal person. But sometimes this life is all they know, so they follow their troupe, or their mate, or their family forever.”