“Do you really need to press yourself so hard?” Jared asked as he followed.
“We must make haste if we’re going to get through this crowd with our money intact,” Throll insisted.
“No, I mean with the training of my son,” Jared said. It had now been several weeks since Throll had first begun to train Aaron and Ohaobbok in the use of the sword. “You look exhausted. I know it may not seem like a big deal, but both your students are much younger than you, and one of them isn’t exactly human. Regardless of your experience, your body is starting at an unfair disadvantage.”
Throll stopped plowing through the crowd and turned to Jared with a grin. “I’m perfectly fine. I’m not pushing myself nearly as hard as I’m pushing them. Besides, if I get tired, I have them practice against each other until neither can lift their swords anymore.”
“How’s it going?” Jared asked.
“You would be amazed, my friend,” the ranger said. “Ohaobbok is growing not only in ability but in size. We’ll soon not be able to hide what he really is. And Aaron’s strength is astonishing for someone not yet sixteen. He often fights Ohaobbok to stalemate, despite the ogre being thrice his weight and half again as tall.” He waved Jared forward again. “Now come. I thought you wanted to come out here to find something nice for our wives.”
Jared laughed. “If you recall, it was you who convinced me to come out here. I don’t have any idea what these caravans carry, and I’m not sure how much I can afford even if I do see something I like.”
Throll shook his head. “Who are you trying to fool? You had to have made at least two hundred gold pieces in that smithy during the past month. Don’t try to deny it. It’s quite obvious you’re making more money than you need when you decide to carve up a perfectly good gold coin to make me this ring?” He held out his right hand.
“You know very well why I made those.”
“I’m beginning to understand, yes.”
“Beginning to understand?” Jared exclaimed. “You took to Morse code better than anyone. You’ve got us all accepting new messages three times a day.”
“I only hope Ohaobbok can master it,” Throll said, shaking his head.
“Give him time,” Jared insisted. “He’s got a great teacher in your daughter. And every time I turn around, I hear Gwen quizzing him on his letters.”
“Well, it is an incredible thing that we can all communicate at any time,” Throll said. “If not for that healing draught Aubrey concocted, I might call these rings the most ingenious inventions in Trimorian history.”
“If only we could have gotten ale to hold a healing energy,” Jared grumbled. “Milk was never my favorite.”
Throll laughed. “That would be a wonder.”
Their conversation was interrupted as they pushed through another mass of people. On the other side, Throll said, “I have been meaning to tell you that Sling completes his work duty today. We should let Ryan and Aaron know that their nemesis will be on the prowl again.”
Jared sighed. “Perhaps it is Sling we should warn. I’d hate to think what might happen if the boy confronted Ryan now, given the development in Ryan’s abilities.”
“With that sword you made for Aaron, I would caution you to be equally worried about what might happen if Sling confronted your younger son. But I wouldn’t lose too much sleep over it. Fortunately, Sling is a natural coward. And your boy and the ogre are inseparable these days. Would you attack a boy traveling with a giant such as he?”
Throll and Jared were approaching a courtyard where a huddle of soldiers in black armor were scanning the faces all around. Throll quickly pulled Jared into an alley between two squat buildings.
“Azazel’s soldiers,” he muttered with obvious disdain. “It’s best to avoid their attention.”
“Why do you think they’re here?” Jared asked.
“Could be any number of reasons. Most likely they’re just accompanying the caravans to act as guards.”
“Then why hide from them?”
“No matter their duties, they only cause trouble. Let’s just say that I have many scores to settle with those men.”
And with that, he strode quickly down the alley, and Jared had to hurry to keep up.
Aubrey hauled up the pail from the well. This wasn’t one of her regular chores, but she’d added it to her regimen lately in order to help out Gwen. The lady of the house had swelled considerably, and it was becoming increasingly difficult for her to get around. It seemed to Aubrey that her friend would give birth any day.
It was a hot summer day. Jared and Throll had gone to the market, Ryan was spending his day practicing archery with Sloane, and Aaron and Ohaobbok, who’d been given a rare day off from training, were out in the woods, looking for mushrooms. This left the house empty, but also peaceful. Aubrey had found that she enjoyed the time alone or with Gwen, losing herself in the everyday chores of running a household.
But as Aubrey was making the long trek back to the house from the well, that quiet peace was broken. A horse came bursting through a thicket of trees carrying two riders, one in the saddle and the other slumped over the horse’s neck. The horse came up to the road, reared back on its hind legs, tossing both riders to the ground, and then tore off again, clearly spooked.
Aubrey dropped her pail and rushed to the fallen riders—a middle-aged man and a teenage girl. The girl’s face was pale, and she was unconscious, though she’d suffered no obvious injuries. At the same time, Gwen came hurrying out the front door of the house—or at least, as well as one could hurry in her condition.
“What’s wrong with you, sir?” Gwen shouted as she waddled up to them. “You shouldn’t ride so recklessly—look what has happened!”
“I had no choice,” the man replied. It’s my daughter… she was lost in the woods. I went looking for her, and found her unconscious. She will not wake. She needs help immediately.”
“Why did you bring her here?” Aubrey asked. She feared that her reputation for healing had spread, despite their efforts to keep her powers a secret.
“Your home is the first I saw upon exiting the forest,” the man explained. “I’d hoped you could direct me to a surgeon or physician. But that infernal horse…”
Gwen shook her head. “You’re one lucky man to have called upon this of all houses.”
“Tell me,” Aubrey said, kneeling before the girl, “in what position did you find her? Was anything lying on her, maybe a fallen limb?”
The man shook his head as he rose to his feet. “Nothing like that. She was leaning back against a tree, as if she’d sat back and fell asleep. Nothing had fallen on her. Not even a leaf.”
“I’ll need to look her over carefully before we do anything,” Aubrey said, peering up at the man with all the calm she could muster. “If she were conscious, I could offer her a tonic, but as long as she remains like this…”
Aubrey peeled away a length of the girl’s dress, revealing two heavily bruised puncture wounds surrounded by an angry red rash.
“It seems she’s been bitten by something poisonous,” she said. “Are there snakes in these woods?”
“There is only one poisonous snake known to live in those woods,” Gwen answered. “A death adder. A single strike is said to kill within hours.”
Aubrey’s heart was racing. She could probably heal this girl, but if she were to cure an incurable poison… well, there would be no end to the stream of villagers who would proclaim her a healer, bringing attention she desperately wanted to avoid. But what choice did she have? The alternative would be to leave this poor child to die, and Aubrey couldn’t live with herself if she allowed such a thing.
“You realize what I must do,” Aubrey whispered to Gwen.
Gwen nodded solemnly. “Do what you must. You cannot avoid using your gift, if it’s for a good cause.”
As Gwen helped the sobbing man to his feet and pulled him aside, Aubrey rubbed her hands together and then pressed them to either side of the snake bite. It
was the most challenging healing she’d ever attempted. She was sure she was sending energy into the bite, and yet it was making no difference whatsoever in either the wound or the rash. But she kept at it, and in time, the rash, at least, began to recede. Aubrey continued directing healing energy into the girl until fatigue forced her to stop.
Then she examined the girl’s wound. The rash was mostly gone, and several drops of yellow liquid had dripped from the puncture wounds. That must be the venom. She wiped the wound dry with the girl’s dress, then pulled back. She had a flask of the healing milk with her—Jared had advised her to always carry it—and would need to take a long draught before she could continue her work.
At that moment the girl stirred.
The father, seeing this, pulled away from Gwen and fell to his knees beside his daughter. “Arabelle!” he cried, fresh tears streaming down his face. “Arabelle, you’re awake! Oh, my poor baby, you have come back to me!”
The girl started to sit up, then quickly collapsed back down again.
Aubrey unstoppered her flask and invited the girl to drink. The girl could barely lift her head, but allowed Aubrey to pour a little of the milk into her mouth.
“Drink it all,” Aubrey urged. “It will help your body restore itself after its ordeal with the poison.”
The girl continued to drink until the flask had been drained. Her coloring improved greatly, and when Aubrey again looked at the wound, it looked remarkably better, now showing only the slightest hint that she’d been bitten at all.
Stronger now, the girl sat up—only to realize that she was exposed. With a shriek, she pulled her dress down. Her father helped her to her feet, and they shared a long embrace.
The man looked back and forth between Aubrey and his daughter. “How is this possible? She was bitten by an adder! None live through such a bite. You gave her no medicine, no incision, and yet here she looks as healthy as she did before she left home.”
Aubrey stared blankly at the man. “I saw no bite,” she lied. “Perhaps you were mistaken.” It was a ridiculous lie, but what else could she do? There was no possible way she could explain. Her only hope was to deny.
“But… but…”
“Instead of questioning what happened,” Aubrey said, “why not simply be thankful that your Arabelle has recovered from an ordeal we should all forget?”
Arabelle’s father stared open-mouthed. Then he nodded. “You’re right. I… must have been mistaken. And I owe you a tremendous debt—a debt I am honor-bound to repay. My name is Honfrion, and I represent the interests of this season’s caravan. Anything you need, you must simply ask.”
Gwen looked dumbfounded. “Do you mean to tell us that you are Honfrion, the Merchant King?”
The man smiled. “Some have called me that, yes.”
“Well, Merchant King,” Gwen said drily, “it would appear that your horse has abandoned you. Come. We’ll send the boys to look for it. In the meantime, please join us in the house for food and drink.”
Honfrion, looking overwhelmed, led his daughter along toward the house, trailing Gwen. Only Aubrey remained behind, wondering how in the world she would ever manage to cover up her secret now.
Ryan let loose his arrow. It sailed unerringly a hundred feet, barely grazing a quizoa and embedding itself into the straw man behind. Sloane and Ryan ran to the target to look at the two arrows buried there.
“I won!” they hollered simultaneously.
Ryan pointed out that his black-feathered arrow had grazed the fruit. “My arrow shaved the skin off the quizoa and lies closer to the fruit.”
Sloane shook her head, pointing at the mark her red-feathered arrow had made. “Your arrow might be resting a touch closer, but my arrow actually sliced into the fruit. Mine did more damage to the fruit, so I am the victor!”
“How about we declare today’s contest a draw? If not, we might argue on this all day.”
“Fine,” Sloane said. “But I still have more wins this week.”
Ryan rolled his eyes as he withdrew the arrows. He knew Sloane was the better archer, but he certainly wasn’t going to admit to it.
“I should get home,” Sloane said. “Our mothers will want my help in preparing tonight’s dinner.”
“Same time tomorrow?” Ryan asked.
“If you can handle losing again,” Sloane said with a smile.
Together, they walked back home. But just outside the property, they found a riderless horse grazing on the roadside. Sharing a bemused expression with Sloane, Ryan caught the animal by the reins. There was no sign of an owner anywhere around.
“He’s gorgeous and well taken care of,” Ryan said. “Maybe this guy bucked his rider?”
“Well, we can’t just leave it here. Let’s take it to the stables, then tomorrow we can send word around the city that we’ve found a horse. I doubt such a beautiful animal will go unclaimed for long.”
If the horse had indeed bucked his rider, he’d calmed down now, and didn’t protest in the slightest as he was led along. They arrived at the house at virtually the same time as Aaron and Ohaobbok, who were coming from the other direction with a basket between them.
“Where’d you get the horse?” Aaron asked.
“Believe it or not, it was just wandering on the road between here and the smithy.”
At that moment Mom appeared in the doorway. “Oh, Ryan, you found him! Bring that majestic creature here. We’ve got a man inside who’s been looking for it. Hang on just one moment, let me tell him you’re here.” She disappeared back inside.
Aaron wanted to stay with the horse, so Ohaobbok, who seemed to have no interest in the matter, took the giant basket of mushrooms they’d gathered and headed for the barn. Sloane went with him to help him unload.
As Ryan led the horse forward, a man stepped out of the Lancasters’ home. But Ryan barely noticed him. He had eyes only for the stunningly beautiful girl who trailed behind. She had raven-black hair and the beginnings of curves that rather took Ryan’s breath away.
The man approached with a wide smile. “Thank you, young man. Arabelle and I managed to lose our seats on that temperamental creature, and then he ran off. I’m grateful to you for bringing her back to me.”
Before Ryan could even speak, the man had deposited a gold coin in his hand.
Aaron tugged on Ryan’s sleeve. “You might want to stop staring at the girl,” he whispered.
Ryan quickly forced his gaze to the ground.
“Well,” said the man to his daughter. “Shall we?”
“Of course, Father.”
As far as Ryan was concerned, the girl’s voice was as beautiful as her face.
They both mounted the horse, then the man turned to Ryan once more. “I appreciate your help in finding my horse. Give your mother my thanks again. And remind them that Honfrion owes them a great debt that he intends to repay. They just have to name it.”
And with that, they trotted away. Ryan’s eyes followed them for as long as they remained in sight.
“Arabelle,” he breathed.
As Ryan picked his way through the market toward Ezra’s stall, he was amazed at how many people were gathered in the town square. The caravans had brought many new faces with them—so many that Ryan felt like a stranger in a town he’d recently come to think of as his own.
“Welcome, young man,” Ezra said as he approached. “Let me guess. You’re in need of more ore?”
Ryan laughed. “How did you know? We also need more charcoal and all of the standard materials.”
“And a wise merchant anticipates the needs of his customers so he’s ready before they can even ask,” Ezra said with a wink. “The standard price will do, I trust?”
Ryan nodded.
“Should I have one of my men deliver the supplies directly to the smithy?”
“That would be great, yes,” Ryan said. “Thank you. By the way, is Itzik around? I haven’t seen him in months, and I never thanked him for the help he lent me before.”
Ryan smiled. “I hate them too. I always feel kind of like I’m in danger.”
Ezra patted Ryan on the back. “Let’s hope you must never truly see what a dangerous crowd looks like, my boy. Now go on. I’m expecting a shipment of potter’s clay any moment.”
With a wave to Ezra, Ryan shoved his way back the way he’d come. Somehow it felt even more crowded now. And he suddenly realized that some of the people were staring at him. Every now and then someone would look at him, startle, and then quickly turn away. He was just wondering what all this meant when a hand grabbed his arm.
“Don’t resist,” a voice said in his ear, “or it will go much worse for you.”
The crowd moved away, and Ryan saw that he was surrounded by six guards. All wore black armor with a strange insignia pressed onto the chest plate. One of them took his free arm, and the two guards now holding him began to drag him away from the market.
Ryan dug his heels into the ground, resisting. “Where are you taking me?” he demanded. “What’s going on?”
Another guard cuffed him so hard on the back of the head that stars appeared in Ryan’s eyes.
“We can take you conscious or unconscious,” the guard growled. “Your choice.”
Ryan clearly preferred conscious, but decided it might be to his advantage to feign unconsciousness. So he went limp, dragging his feet, while surreptitiously tapping out an SOS on his ring.
With his lids mostly closed, he chanced a peek at where they were going. He recognized where they were, and knew the fountain lay in this direction. Somehow he felt certain that was their ultimate destination. He quietly thumbed a longer message to his family and friends.
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