* * *
The next day passed by so slowly, Sierra wondered if time was deliberately slowing to drag this out and make it unbearable. They found a place to camp that night, and both of them started crying. Sierra tried to be strong, but she couldn’t ignore the truth. All three men were kidnapped and outnumbered. Dar was barely even alive.
The next day, they tried to move closer to the village, but they had no idea if the Cosa had extended the lines of her magic. If they were revealed, they lost their chance to move in. They watched the village from afar, watched men and women and children move from the cottages to the fields to the river and back. They watched the rundown cottage. One man guarded the front. They couldn’t see the back, but they assumed it was guarded, as well. Lorn and one other man, possibly Rincon, went in and out. The others avoided it. Sierra hoped that meant they were still there, still regarded as a threat.
Finally, that night, they felt Matilda’s magic wearing off. It was a slow, strange feeling: Sierra felt like wind was pushing on her on all sides. When it stopped, they looked at one another, at their horses.
“It’s gone, isn’t it?” Sashe asked.
“I think so,” Sierra said. She looked towards the village, chewing on her bottom lip. They sat at their camp, their horses grazing nearby. “If we go into town now, they’ll probably think we’re prostitutes.”
“Maybe that won’t be such a bad thing,” Sashe said slowly. “Better they think us whores than Avialies.”
Sierra frowned. “But will they? They’re on the watch for who they think is working with Evan and the others.”
“Haven’t you seen how the women are treated here?” Sashe asked. “They’re not going to think we’re here with them.”
“This is our one chance to get in there. If they find out it’s us… well, you’re right, we can’t save them by our strength.”
Sashe stood up. “We can do this, Sierra.”
Sierra took a deep breath, then nodded and stood up. “Right. How hard could it be?”
They started to gather their camp. They looked over their horses and belongings, looking for anything that might connect them with the men. Sierra’s traveling dress had a certain design popular in Shyra, so she changed into a different dress, one she’d received from Lisbeth from Belisha. She’d fit in better.
“We’ll say we’re traveling to Jolen,” Sierra suggested. “We have family there, and someone just had a child.”
“I’ll be Hana. What’s your new name?”
Sierra paused. “Analiese.”
Sashe shook her head. “That’s too complicated, I’m going to forget it and call you Sierra.”
“Fine. Lisa?”
“Better.” Sashe took the reins of her horse. “Are you ready?”
Sierra looked towards the village. In that rundown cottage she couldn’t even see from this distance, her husband, her brother-in-law, and her brother were tied up or chained to the walls. They might be hungry. Dar was probably in pain. And she finally had the chance to help them. She nodded to Sashe. “I’m ready.”
The stars were just barely coming out. The moonlight was the only thing lighting up the paths and trees in the village. They might wonder why the women didn’t find a place to sleep earlier.
The cottages and huts were quiet; the one that seemed to have any activity was at the end of the main road. Voices rose into the night from it, and the windows were lit up.
They walked past the rundown cottage. The guard called out. “Excuse me.”
The two of them stopped and looked over at him. “Good night, sir,” Sashe said, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. She motioned to the house ahead. “Is that an inn?”
“Oh, no, it’s a tavern,” he said. “You two are traveling?”
“Yes,” Sashe answered, “we’re on our way to Jolen.” She looked down at his sword. “Can you show us to an inn?”
The man cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, I can’t leave my position.”
Sashe gasped, putting her hand on her chest. “Are you…” She glanced behind him at the cottage, then looked back at him with a shy smile. “Guarding something?”
“Well, Miss,” he said, taking a step towards her. “I don’t know if that’s information a young lady like yourself should know.” He winked at her. “Wouldn’t want to keep you up with nightmares.”
Sashe fluttered her eyelashes at him. Sierra had to force herself not to stare at her like she’d grown an extra head.
Sashe giggled. “Well, I’m sure if you’re guarding it, I wouldn’t be in any danger.”
He smiled again. “You’d be correct, of course.”
Sierra cleared her throat. “So, mister… guard… where can we find a warm bed to sleep in tonight? Should we go down there?” She motioned to the end of the road.
The guard hesitated. “I wouldn’t. It’s a tavern and there aren’t any women there. Not proper for you to go there by yourselves.” He paused, tilting his head. “Why are you two traveling alone?”
“We, um, don’t have any male relatives,” Sashe replied. She sniffled. “Out father died just a couple years ago, and we haven’t married yet.”
“You haven’t? Why not? Two beautiful girl like yourselves…”
“Well, you know Wharfedale,” Sashe said with a shrug.
The guard looked confused.
“Do you know of someone we could stay with for the night?” Sashe asked.
“You could stay with my family,” he offered. He turned and pointed to a cottage.
Sierra glanced back at the cottage where Evan and the others were, listening and watching for any hint of life. The windows were dark, and overgrown plants crowded the walkway and the door.
“My father and my sister live there,” the guard said. “They’ve got an extra room where you could stay.”
“Thank you so much.” Sashe lightly touched the guard’s arm before motioning to Sierra. They walked down the road.
Once they were out of earshot, Sierra mumbled to Sashe, “What was that?”
“Flirting. I know you didn’t have a chance to do it with anyone but Evan, but I thought you could at least recognize it.”
Sierra rolled her eyes. “He really is going to think you’re a prostitute.”
Sashe glared at her. “Oh, please. Prostitutes hardly cover this much skin.”
They reached to cottage, and Sashe knocked. The door flung open, and an elderly man came out with a lantern. “Who is it? It’s late, don’t you—” He paused when he saw the two of them. “Oh, my. What are you two doing out so late by yourselves?”
“We’re traveling from Wharfedale and we need a place to stay for the night,” Sashe said warmly. “Your son said you might be able to help us.”
He grumbled something, then called over his shoulder, “Willow!”
Sierra felt herself tense. The Cosa? Was this a Cosa family? Fine. She and Sashe had nothing to hide. The red-haired Cosa girl came to the door.
“These girls need a place to sleep,” the elderly man said. “What do you think about that?”
Willow looked them up and down. Her lips twitched as the man rambled on about whether they had any extra food for dinner or blankets they could use.
“We have a few blankets,” Sierra said. “Just not enough to keep warm outside.”
Willow could look all she wanted; Sashe and Sierra were hiding nothing but a few flimsy daggers under their dresses. “Where are you traveling to?” she asked.
“Jolen,” Sashe said.
Willow glanced at their horses, who were lingering at the end of the path. “You didn’t pack very much.”
“No, we have family in Jolen and some of our belongings are there already,” Sashe said. “We don’t want to trouble you. If you know of anywhere else—”
“No, we can accommodate you,” Willow said. “Please come in.”
Their cottage was small, just a few rooms. Willow made them beds in what seemed like the eatin
g area. The man sat in a chair in the next one, smoking a pipe. The tobacco drifted through the air, reminding Sierra of Victory Day, of the various kinds of pipe and tobacco merchants and how they gathered near the fountain. She bought a finely crafted pipe for Evan from Kleisade.
“Where are you from?” Willow asked.
“Wharfedale,” Sashe said.
“How long have you been traveling?”
“This is our third night.”
“Where did you stay last night?”
Willow’s questions continued as she made them cots and tea. Sashe and Sierra answered them as though they had no idea she was interrogating them, looking for anything suspicious. They were friendly and returned the questions, and Willow answered them with short, tense sentences, occasionally of one or two words.
If Willow was a Cosa, her magic must be around the cottage. If Sierra and Sashe talked about how to get Evan and the others before Willow had fallen asleep, she’d surely hear. They couldn’t waste an entire night here when Evan was locked up just down the road, enduring who knew what.
As Sashe indulged Willow’s questions, Sierra’s mind raced, trying to figure out how to get out of this house without raising suspicion. She suddenly remembered what she’d brought from her house. She rummaged through her bag until her fingers brushed over the glass flask that had the sleep syrup. One sip would last for at least a couple hours. She glanced at Willow’s cup of tea, then the old man’s, then at the lantern flickering nearby, the only light in the room.
“Thank you so much for taking us in,” Sashe said as Willow finally ran out of questions to ask. “You have a lovely home.”
Willow half-smiled. “Thank you.”
“We really appreciate it,” Sierra said. “You know, we have this wonderful tea from Renaul. Can I make you some? As a thank you?”
“That’s kind of you, but—” Willow began, but Sierra was already on her feet, taking their cups.
She brought them over to the small counter where she’d boiled the water. It was still warm. She got her bag and rustled through it. “It’s such an interesting flavor,” she said as she shielded the cups from their view. “It doesn’t smell like anything, but tastes… minty.” That’s the only way she could think to describe the sleep syrup.
She poured out fresh water, some of Willow’s tea, and just a drop of sleep syrup. She then brought them back to Willow and her father.
“It’s delicious, I’m sure you’ll love it,” Sashe said, smiling.
The man thanked them and drank right away. Willow looked at the tea uncertainly, a red eyebrow raising.
“Hmmm,” Willow’s father said. “Tastes a lot like ours.”
“Do you think so?” Sierra asked. “I thought it was quite different. Willow, what do you think?”
Willow took a tiny sip. “It does taste like ours… but for that aftertaste.” She sipped again and made a face. “Interesting.”
They were silent as Sierra settled down again next to Sashe.
Sashe smiled at WIllow. “Is the guard your brother? Oren?”
“Yes.”
He had to be a Cosa, too, at least half, unless she and Oren were brother and sister in name only. That must be why he was a guard, because he could keep Evan and the others revealed if they tried to change. But then why did Lorn call Willow yesterday instead of Oren?
“He’s very nice,” Sashe said. “Is he married?”
Willow narrowed her eyes. “No. Why?”
“I’m sorry, I was just curious.”
“Oren isn’t interested in outsiders. Especially ones who travel alone with only a day’s worth of clothes and food and in such scandalous dresses.” She put her cup down and straightened up. “Goodnight, ladies, we will—”
A snore broke her off. Her father was asleep already, his empty cup in his hand, tilted and in danger of falling to the ground.
Willow huffed and shook her father’s shoulder. “Father? Father?” She yawned. “Oh, my…”
“Perhaps we should retire,” Sierra said. “I think we’re all tired.”
“Father?” she said. She leaned back in her chair, her shoulders relaxing. “Father, wake up, we need to go to our rooms…” She closed her eyes, her breathing deepened, then she was asleep.
Sierra slowly looked at Sashe, afraid that any sudden noise would awake them. It was a powerful brew from Matilda's mother that she’d used herself before, but she couldn’t help being careful.
“How long do we have?” Sashe asked, getting to her feet.
Sierra looked into Willow’s cup. It was nearly full. “At least an hour, maybe two. Her father will be out for three or four.”
Sashe started to pick up her pack, then paused. “Should we bring our things?”
Sierra bit her lip. “Oren is still guarding. We’ll probably have to come back here. We can at least see what’s going on.”
“And honestly, if we have to leave our things behind, I don’t have anything of much importance.”
They changed into pants so they could sneak around the building without too much noise or hindrance. Sashe complained about how constricting they were as they inched towards the door. Sierra couldn’t remember the last time she saw Sashe in pants. She shushed her before they left the house.
It was dark and still outside. The tavern was quieter, though occasionally a stray cry or bark of laughter floated into the air. They crept around the back of the cottage and moved closer to the cottage Oren was guarding.
They moved closer, closer, and Sierra froze when she saw a figure on the ground. Sashe nearly ran into her. “Ow, Sierra—”
Sierra put her hand up, and Sashe fell silent. Sierra winced, waiting for the figure to stand and do something. As she squinted in the dark, though, she realized he was sleeping. Leaning against the cottage, his head resting on his hand. She let out a slow breath and motioned for Sashe to follow her.
They crept around the side of the cottage. The grass was overgrown on this side, and Sierra moved as slowly as she could so the rustling didn’t disturb Oren. She stopped at the window on this side and glanced inside of it, but it was completely dark inside.
Voices made her freeze again. Oren’s voice, for sure, and one, maybe two others.
Sashe gripped Sierra’s arm as the men moved closer.
“Have they been any trouble?” a deep, gravely voice asked.
“Yesterday they were,” Oren answered. “Tried to escape, harassed the guards. Today they’ve been… relatively quiet.”
“Three of them?”
“Yes, Jorda.”
“Where do you think they’re from?”
“One of them is Governor Alastor’s son from Rahuda,” Lorn answered. “Sir Dar.”
The third man—Jorda—scoffed. Was he the mayor Jeshro was talking about? He sounded important, and they were speaking to him like he had power. “That scum shouldn’t be nobility.”
“No, sir,” Lorn said.
There was a moment of silence, then a rustling. “I’m tired from traveling,” the third man said. “Tomorrow I’ll take care of them. Lorn, you’ll come with me.”
“Yes, sir,” Lorn said, a note of excitement in his voice.
Sierra clenched her teeth. Take care of them? What did that mean?
“And you said there were others with them?” Jorda asked.
“We think so, yes. We haven’t seen anyone, though.”
“Get Kalev,” Jorda said. “Increase the magic around here. We don’t want anyone getting in or out before I take them tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, sir,” Oren said.
Sashe’s grip turned painful on Sierra’s arm. She breathed in Sierra’s ear, “Let’s go.”
Sierra nodded, and they backed away. Oren rounded the back of the cottage as they were near the one to the right of it. Sierra backed up against the brick wall of the cottage behind her, afraid to breathe.
Oren shook the guard awake and started yelling at him. They stood
and circled the cottage, arguing with raised voices. As soon as they were out of sight, Sierra and Sashe ran.
They found a backdoor to Willow’s cottage and slipped inside. Sweat was trickling down the back of her neck as they rushed into the living area. Willow and her father were still asleep; they didn’t move once as Sierra and Sashe changed into their nightgowns.
Sierra didn’t want to lay down and try to sleep. She wanted to get Evan and the others. She didn’t want to have horrible fantasies about what Jorda had in plan for them. But she had no choice. A long night was ahead of her. She almost took a sip of sleep syrup herself, but she was sure she’d find another use for it tomorrow.
The Dangers of Sleeping Potion Page 5