by Jada Fisher
“Th-thanks. That’s good to know. I guess all we need now is something to fill our bellies.”
“Lucky for you, I’ve got plenty for that kinda situation. I’ve got a good stew here and a roast. Pick ya poison.”
Athar looked over them, turning to catch Ukrah’s gaze. “Come and sit,” he said evenly. “We’re not going to get any f-farther before morning.”
She frowned. She didn’t want to stop and stay at a tavern for the night. She was so close to the other vessel that she could feel it in her teeth. “I… I’m not ready to settle in for the night.”
“We didn’t exactly get a good night’s sleep last night. Let’s not push ourselves too far and end up in trouble.”
She wanted to argue with him—in fact, the words were right on the tip of her tongue—but he affixed her with one of his rare stern looks and those words died before they could ever leave her mouth.
“Alright then.” Clambering on the stool beside Crispin, she settled down. Voirdr let out a happy sound and clambered into her lap, resting his head in the crook of her neck. He was already almost too big to sit there, his tail curling around her leg and his feet on either side of her lap.
“That’s quite a young one you have there,” the innkeeper said as he handed her a heated cider. “Shouldn’t you be at the academy?”
Ukrah looked up at the man. She realized that she hadn’t really spoken to anyone outside of the academy or Eist’s manor since she had arrived there. And to her, the stranger was far too similar to the slavers and customers who had been trying to buy and sell her people.
She took the drink but didn’t say anything for several beats. It was only when Crispin elbowed her gently that she realized she was probably being rude to a man who had been nothing but polite to her so far.
“I’m a special case,” she ground out eventually.
“Ah, I see there. That’s quite the pretty accent. Are you Margaidian?”
She looked to Athar, not quite sure what her answer should be, but the giant man just gave her the slightest nod.
“Yes. I am Margaidian.”
“Ah, you’re one of the paler ones I’ve seen! I guess our winters up here aren’t exactly easy on ya coastal folks. I’ll get you lot that food you wanted then get out of your hair.”
He left through a door, and Ukrah just held her Voirdr tighter. The interaction was pleasant enough, but she felt like she was sitting on pins and needles. Somehow, they were in the same town as another vessel. Someone who had their fate and body snatched up by an old spirit that was trying to return to the earth.
She just hoped she could find them before anyone else did.
When morning came, she was raring to go. She woke up first, of course, and took care of her morning business before visiting Ethella and Fior in the stable.
Thankfully, no one had bothered them, it seemed. It was Fior who cracked a crystalline eye and looked her over, wuffling slightly in an adorable dragon way.
“Good morning,” she said, scratching at his head. “You want some food?”
He yawned, stretching out his beautifully brindled limbs, and slowly stood. Eist let out a chuckle and went about getting him food, getting gold from the purse Athar had in their room.
She was just heading back out when people started waking up. Voirdr, of course, wanted to cling to unconsciousness, chirping anxiously at the movement.
Crispin looked to her blearily, rubbing his eyes, but Ukrah just told him that she was tending to things. He gave her an understanding look, flopping backwards as she ducked out.
All in all, it took her longer than she would have liked for them to all get up and get going, but they did manage to get directions to the tailor just as the sun finished its morning climb. She felt like her skin was itching, her stomach jumping up and down as they walked to the tailor. The sooner they got Athar’s clothes mended, the sooner they could go and find whoever the vessel was.
She couldn’t believe it. She was going to find another vessel.
Would they be an orphan like her? Someone who had been betrayed and had the power choose them at the moment of their death? Were they a warrior, brave and strong? Were they a grand witch or scholar? A thief? A bandit?
The ideas began to build inside of her. Mounting on top of each other and expanding with excitement. Her mouth was dry, her palms sweating. Maybe while the tailor was sewing, she could sneak away and go looking on her own. Surely the vessel had to feel her too? Maybe they had dreams as well. Maybe they were looking for her just like she was looking for them.
Athar stopped in front of a small, comfortable-looking shack and gave the sturdy door a couple of knocks. Ukrah was only barely paying attention as the entryway opened, but the whirlwind that came out of it was impossible to ignore.
“Oh, hello there! I haven’t seen you lot before! Are you passing through? Oh! I see you have quite a rip there. Have you come here for some mending? No, I dare say that needs a patch!”
Ukrah blinked several times, taking in the woman who was chattering at them with quite apparent glee. She was a Rothaichian, alright, with a rotund and womanly figure. She looked to be middle-aged, at least a handful of years older than Eist and Athar, and her frizzy brown hair was done up in a bun.
“Goodness! It looks like the four of you could all use a little tendin’. Oh! And is that a hatchling I see? Why, this is a wonderful morning!”
“I, uh… We…” It made Ukrah feel a bit better that Athar was just as blindsided by the rosy-cheeked and smiling woman as she was. “We’ve been on the road a while. We only have one change of clothes, and those are still a bit damp from the storm yesterday.”
“Oh yes, that was quite a drencher, wasn’t it? My rain barrel right overflowed and I was worried that it was going to seep right under my door! Come in, come in! I’ll set some tea on and put your clothes to dry. I think I have some robes for you so you’re not indecent while I work.”
She stepped inside, her steps quite spry and bouncy considering her large frame. Ukrah had heard this about some women here in the civilized lands, how they had curves upon curves, their bodies layered with muscle and fat and soft skin that only came from bounty and broad frames. She remembered hearing some warriors discussing it in tones that she was too young to understand, but now that she was older, she could see why they might admire a figure like the seamstress’s.
“I hope you don’t mind elderberry tea. I’m out of my rooted and herbier ones. I’m afraid there was an awful sort of sickness going around just a fortnight ago and I ran right out tending to all of the sick ones in our little village.”
“B-berry is fine.”
“Wonderful!”
Like something out of a story, the woman began humming cheerily to herself as she buzzed around her small kitchen. No one said anything as they just stood in her sitting area, which didn’t have enough seats for all of them.
Ukrah guessed that she was indeed getting spoiled by Eist’s sprawling home. She could see the woman’s bedroom from where she was standing, curtains hanging in the entrances instead of doors, drawn to the side with little strips of ribbon.
Other than that, there was only one other door, which Ukrah guessed had to lead to her workroom. Yet despite the small space, it wasn’t crowded at all. It felt welcoming, bright, with bolts of fabric and thread all around, along with hanging circles that she was pretty sure were something Eist had once called noble-lady stitching.
Ukrah didn’t know what could possibly be noble about the stitching, but she liked the pretty pictures they made. She even recognized some of the common words stitched on them as well. In fact, the longer she stared at them, the more at ease she felt. Her anxiety about finding the vessel and the attack on the road drained from her in gentle waves.
“Ah, I’ll just set that to steep for a bit. Now, I think I have some jerkins and hose for the lot of you that you can wear while I tend to your things.” She looked to Athar and let out a hearty laugh. “You, however, will have t
o accept one of my robes. I have to say, I don’t think I’ve ever had to tend to someone of your stature. I’d love to make you a full ensemble someday!”
“T-t-t-that won’t be necessary,” Athar murmured quietly. Ukrah couldn’t help but raise her eyebrow at that. A four-stutter? That was rare for the large man. He had to be quite nervous.
For some reason, the thought of the hulking man being intimidated by the soft, happy woman in front of them almost made Ukrah giggle, and she barely hid it with a cough into her fist.
“Oh dear! I hope you’re not coming down with an illness as well. Come, come, you can change in my room. All of you give me your wet things from the storm and I’ll go hang them on the line outside!”
There didn’t seem to be any saying no to the woman, so Athar removed their wet things from the separate pack they had brought. From there, Ukrah found herself ushered into the woman’s room, where she did indeed shove a loose cloth tunic and some gray hose into her hands before bustling out and closing the curtains.
It was strange to change in a stranger’s home, but Ukrah did as she was asked without any fuss. Besides, she kind of wanted to see what this seamstress could do. She wasn’t really like anyone Ukrah had ever met. She wasn’t scarred from the war or full of the grim dark that came from losing someone in the battle. She didn’t seem traumatized or worried. Even the ever-cheerful Ale’a always had a sort of weight to her presence.
When she joined the others, the woman was still outside, but Ukrah could hear her humming happily again. While the humans were sipping tea, Voirdr had already made himself at home on the one plush chair, curled up into a little ball and chewing lazily on the piece of rawhide that was also in the pack.
“Make sure you behave yourself,” Ukrah reminded him. “We’re guests here.”
He made a sound that could almost be taken as offense that she would ever insinuate that he could be anything other than well-mannered, but quickly returned to his chew.
“Alright! I’ll tend to those clothes once they dry. To be honest, I would love to give them a thorough wash, but I can tell by your stance that you don’t have that much time.” She gave them a blinding grin. “That is, unless you don’t mind sticking around a bit longer?”
“We actually are in a b-bit of a hurry,” Athar said sheepishly, his cheeks coloring.
Her face only fell ever-so-slightly, but she continued to bluster on. “As I thought! Let me get a move on then and get you out of here!”
She strode toward the one closed door, throwing it open and—sure enough—there was what looked every bit like what Ukrah thought a tailor’s room would. There was a table to set things flat on, then there was a tool board with all sorts of scissors and measuring tapes and other small, metal instruments that Ukrah couldn’t name. Fabric was all around too, with another board that was completely full of spools of thread and twine.
“Looks like yours just needs a little mending, nothing too big! But there’s a lot of stress on the center seam here, I think I’ll just let it out a little and resew it. Nothing like being preventative to make clothes last longer!”
Ukrah just nodded along, going to sit on one of the stools that were against the wall, and the others followed her. They didn’t say much, but that was probably because the woman started singing lightly to herself while they all sipped tea.
It really was lovely, warm, and soothing down her throat and filling her belly.
Despite the woman’s cheery nature, her hands moved with precise, specific movements. Exact and crisp, with the kind of assuredness that only came from years of practice. Ukrah leaned forward, watching her as she threaded the needle, then took another tool to the seam of her breeches. The woman stuck the needle through one of the straps on her apron, then busied herself as she sung.
Warmth continued to fill Ukrah, starting at her feet and bubbling upwards, filling her with a pleasant sort of ease. The woman’s movements set up a rhythm that swept in and out, making Ukrah sway.
The seamstress finished with the seam and went on to mending the worn parts. The warmth in Ukrah grew more heady, beckoning her to come closer, to revel in the soft happiness. To be warm and safe and comforted.
Licking her lips, she blinked, and suddenly, she was a bit closer to the woman. She didn’t quite understand why until she realized that she had stood and taken a step toward the seamstress. The woman’s song didn’t pause, continuing and wrapping around her head, sinking into her like happy little breaths.
If anyone thought it odd of her to walk forward, no one said. Or maybe they did, but she just didn’t listen. It didn’t seem to matter. She was so relaxed, so happy and content. She couldn’t remember there ever being such a smooth sort of ease to her body, and she just wanted more of it.
So she stepped forward, and forward, until she was right next to the woman. If the seamstress thought anything of Ukrah standing there, staring down at her work, she didn’t say so. If anything, her singing just grew more soothing.
And so, the desert girl just stood, letting herself enjoy the moment, letting herself just be. When was the last time she had ever just stood and existed? She’d been trying to find the god-woman or riddling her existence out or trying to make it at the academy for what felt like ages. She was so worn, so exhausted, even though she had slept in a tavern with a relatively nice bed.
She felt like a bunch of warm wheat noodles all piled on top of each other when the woman turned slightly, reaching up to pat her cheek.
Ukrah closed her eyes, ready to lean into the sweet, wonderful comfort, but as soon as the woman’s hand touched her, the world cracked open.
Or at least that was what it felt like. The temperature seemed to change all around them, wind whipping Ukrah every which way. A gold light blasted her while energy, warm and powerful and elated, burst through her very core.
She stumbled back, breathing hard, and when she looked up, the woman was also on her feet, looking disheveled and shocked.
“What in the ancestor’s name are you?” she gasped, her once-rosy cheeks drained of all color.
But Ukrah still couldn’t speak, her wits escaping her for a moment. Because she knew without a single shadow of a doubt that the seamstress was none other than the vessel they had been searching for.
She’d found her, and it was time to take her home.
5
There’s Always a Catch
Ukrah looked guiltily to her companions, who all looked just as flustered as she felt. After whatever had happened when the seamstress touched her, it had taken a few minutes for everything to calm down again and the desert woman to be able to speak.
“Don’t worry,” Cassinda said soothingly, her voice low. “I felt it too. I can’t imagine how powerful it was for you.”
Ukrah nodded, swallowing before looking back to the woman. They were standing in her kitchen now, the seamstress shakily drinking a cup of tea as she eyed them suspiciously.
“You’re a witch?” she asked breathlessly. “I don’t mind witches, but I won’t abide you magicking me without my permission.”
“Not really,” Ukrah said slowly, softly. “Or at least I’m not. But I wasn’t magicking you. I actually… Uh, I think it was you who was magicking me.”
“What?” the woman asked with wide eyes. “But I’m no witch. I don’t have a lick of magic in me, I tell ya. No spells or calls to the moon or…or whatever it is that makes a person a witch.”
“That’s not how witches wo—”
Ukrah held up her hand, cutting Cassinda off. It wasn’t the time or place, especially considering that the woman definitely looked more than a little alarmed.
Because Ukrah didn’t want her to be alarmed. She wanted the woman to be just as pleased as Ukrah that she had managed to find her. It was almost uncanny, how they had been drawn together by fate, but Ukrah certainly wasn’t going to question it.
“We’re not saying you’re a witch.”
“Then—”
“Here, have a se
at. Let me explain. I’m sure you can feel that I’m no harm to you, right?”
“I…” She looked over Ukrah, her eyes wide with uncertainty, before her shoulders dropped. “Yes. You seem safe to me, and I don’t know why.”
“It’s going to be alright.” Ukrah offered her hand and the woman took it, her tankard of tea shaking in the other. Together, they walked into the sitting area, and the desert girl shooed Voirdr from where he was still taking up the chair.
Once the woman was seated, Ukrah crouched in front of her, looking up into the woman’s brown eyes and seeing the fear there, the alarm, but also dozens of questions.
“So I’m sure that, at this point, you know about the Three and how they were beings from some other world that tried to escape the Blight by coming here?”
“Aye, I heard the tale. It was the god-woman who used their power to cause the great cleansing.”
“Exactly. But the catch is, when the world was cleansed, there was a big empty spot left where they once were. A spot that used to be occupied by the old spirits.”
“The ones who helped form our world, yeah. Gave birth to dragons.”
“Yes. Our world needs something to keep all the magic going as it’s supposed to. The world is flooding with energy right now, what used to be sucked up by the Three and the Blight, and the sheer power of it could tear everything to pieces. Turn our world inside-out.”
“T-that doesn’t sound good,” the woman murmured.
“It most certainly isn’t. Our world needs guides to channel the magic, return it to its rightful cycles, so the old spirits are coming back—or at least trying to. But the issue is that coming back from nothingness isn’t exactly easy.”
The woman swallowed more tea, her cheeks slowly growing in their red color again. That was good. It meant she was less frightened, that she believed at least a little of what Ukrah was saying. But she had always assumed that the seamstress would, that the vessel part of her would sense the truth and not fight it.