by Alex Linwood
“I assure you, this is no prank.” Lady Harper pulled some papers from her bag. She passed them over the table to the guard, who took them slowly from her. He let his eyes drift down and examine the writing. He took a quick inhale.
This got the attention of the guard leaning against the wall. He strode forward and leaned over the shoulder of the second guard to read the paper’s contents. Both guards then stared at Portia and Lady Harper, this time much more respectfully.
“Where’s the rest of your convoy?” the younger guard asked.
“They’re dead,” Lady Harper said without emotion.
“All of them?”
“All of them. We were attacked last night between Coverack and Holne. You will find the bodies of eleven bandits in the forest, along with my kin.”
Silence met this news. Portia cleared her throat, then awkwardly opened her bag and pulled out the two leather sheath sections: the ones with the palace guard insignia and the guards’ names. She pushed those across the table as well. “Our palace escort was also killed.”
The older guard swore at this then spoke out, anger and fear in his voice. “How do we know you didn’t kill them?”
“Why would we kill them? And if we did, why would we bring the evidence to you?” Lady Harper’s voice rose in pitch. She stared at them coldly. “All we are asking for is an escort. As is our right.” She sat up ramrod straight, tension along her arms and back. It was the first emotional reaction Portia had seen from her.
The younger guard gave a placating motion to the older guard and turned to Portia and Harper. “My apologies. Of course, it would make no sense for you to do such a thing. I hope you can understand our upset at our fellow guardsmen’s deaths.”
Lady Harper nodded, the anger in her body dissipating a little. “Regardless, we need an escort.”
“I understand, ma’am.”
“Lady Harper.”
“Lady Harper,” the younger guard said. He rose. “Our captain is out on patrol. He will be back shortly with the rest of today’s crew. Can I offer you some refreshments? We can wait for their return together.”
Lady Harper narrowed her eyes at the young guard but finally nodded acquiescence. He led Lady Harper and Portia to a small side room off the main guard area and left them to find seating in the tiny room, closing the door behind him. Portia and Lady Harper sat on the low couch facing the door. It felt too low to Portia, placing them in a vulnerable position. It took all her willpower to not pace the room while they waited.
The door opened again and men’s voices drifted in. The younger guard returned bearing a tray of tea and cookies he laid on the low table in front of them. He did not shut the door behind him when he left again, so voices from the main room drifted in.
One particularly deep voice exclaimed, “Those wretched bandits. We need more help—and we get nothing. Now we’re expected to escort two strangers to the border? We are already short-staffed.” Mutters of agreement sounded, followed by the thump of a fist slammed on the table. The outer room quieted.
Portia looked at Lady Harper, her eyes wide. Lady Harper sipped her drink and didn’t seem concerned at all. “How can you be so calm?” Portia asked.
“Our treaties are very important to both kingdoms. The guardsmen of the city know that, regardless of whatever else is going on here. Something ill is afoot—those bandits are a sign of it—but it is not our concern at the moment. Bandits will be the least of our concerns if we do not focus in dealing with the omens of the future.” Lady Harper finished her drink and set the cup on the table.
The skeptic in Portia thought maybe Lady Harper was delusional. The angry tone from the guards just now did not sound like the voices of someone interested in helping them. Perhaps they didn’t have a choice. But if it was as Lady Harper said, then the guards must help them, and probably hate them for it while doing so. Dread gnawed at Portia. She did not want to deal with angry guards any more than she wanted to deal with murderous bandits.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Lady Harper. “I have a question for you, Portia. It seems you have a great deal of magic, yet you use so little of it. When we were attacked, could you have done other things?”
Heat rose in Portia’s face at the question. She had wondered the same thing, but her magic was not very strong. Perhaps she could have tried to freeze all the attackers, only to give them all a slight chill instead of encasing them in ice. Maybe it would’ve been better to freeze one than to have diffused her energy into making duplicates. And then there was the warning from Professor Aelric and Professor Hilda to not show too much magic.
She looked down at the ground as she spoke. “I-I… My magic is not that strong. But perhaps I did not make the best choice. I’m sorry. I’m still learning.” Daring to make eye contact with the elf, she continued. “I’m not supposed to show my magic to others—at least not too much of it.”
“Why is that?” Lady Harper tilted her head in inquiry.
“Because a human who can do so much different magic is known as a Jack. I can’t explain it better than the professors did at our meeting. It is an omen of a dire need upcoming. And apparently it makes me a target.” Portia put down her half-finished drink. “Attention is not always a good thing.”
Lady Harper looked at Portia thoughtfully. “Perhaps that is why those strange bandits were so interested in our group.”
Portia hoped not. They were terrifying. And large. She didn’t want those sorts of people after her specifically.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the entrance of a larger, older guardsman with an air of authority about him. His hair was white and cut close to his scalp. He entered the small room and grinned, laugh lines wrinkling his face. He sat down informally on the coffee table in front of Portia and Lady Harper after pushing aside the plates there.
“Greetings. I’m the captain here. My lieutenant has briefed me a little on your troubles and shown me your papers. We would be happy to escort you, but we cannot do so today. We’re hard-pressed for men at the moment, and as you well know, there is a bandit problem lately.” His face grew serious. “I am sorry to hear of your convoy. You have my condolences.”
Lady Harper nodded acknowledgment. “Thank you. And my condolences to you as well.”
The captain slapped his knee in the ensuing awkward silence. “Well, it’s a rough life we choose. It seems to be getting rougher all the time.” He rose to leave. “We can go tomorrow.”
Lady Harper spoke up quickly. “We need a horse. We lost all but one.”
The captain stopped in his tracks and turned to look at her. “I can’t give you one—we don’t even have enough for ourselves.”
“I can give you gold.”
He waved away Lady Harper’s offer. “Some things are more important than gold, like security. The best I can do is I can rent you a guardsman’s horse for the journey. One gold piece.”
Portia was shocked at the price. They should be able to buy a horse for that, not merely rent one for the journey.
The guardsman saw the look on Portia’s face and answered her before she said a word. “And if you think that’s unfair, feel free to buy one in town. I guarantee you’ll find none. Just be here tomorrow morning with your gold, ready to go. We leave at dawn.” He called out one last instruction while walking out the door. “My lieutenant will return your papers on the way out.”
Sunshine was still beating down onto the town square when they exited the guardhouse. Portia saw the clothier shop a few doors down. It was open. “There is a shop I want to visit.”
“We have some time to kill. As urgent as our task is, I don’t think it’s worth risking the journey without a guard. We should buy some supplies at the market while we’re at it.”
Portia nodded. The market would be open for a few more hours. She wanted to visit the clothing store first. She pointed the way.
The store’s interior looked just as she remembered it last time—dim, and filled with beautiful things. There we
re a few customers scattered within it, but it was not nearly as crowded as the square outside. The quietness of the shop was soothing to Portia. She didn’t like the loud noises outside, nor the constant jostling of walking through the market crowds. Too many hours of her childhood had been spent trying to pickpocket just such crowded markets.
Alice, the shop owner, came around a shelf of clothing and greeted Lady Harper and Portia. She looked just the same as she had last time Portia had seen her. Her hair was still blonde, and it was still impossible to tell how old she was. The familiarity reassured Portia.
The shopkeeper did not react at all to Lady Harper being an elf. Instead, she nodded calmly, giving a small bow. Portia was gratified when she thought she saw a flicker of recognition in Alice’s eyes.
“How can I help you ladies?”
“I was hoping for a new outfit,” Portia said, not sure how to begin. “I think the last outfit I bought here brought me luck. I could use more of that.” She looked around at the kirtles hanging around the shop and quickly added, “Not another kirtle. I want something I can feel… something that’s easy to move in. And…” Her face turned red. She wasn’t sure how unusual her next request would be. “Something I can do sword work in. And fight.”
Alice’s face betrayed no emotion, but her eyes twinkled a bit. “Of course. I can help you with that.” The shopkeeper’s calm acceptance was in sharp contrast to the wide eyes of two nearby female customers who had overheard Portia. The customers set down the material they had been holding and scurried out the door.
Alice turned her attention towards Lady Harper. “And for you, my lady?”
Lady Harper gave Alice a small grin. Portia thought, somehow, that Lady Harper liked Alice. She had no idea if she was just imagining it. “I had some fighting leathers that have become irreparably stained. I would like to replace those—if you have something sufficiently small to fit me.”
“Of course. I am sure I will be able to do that as well.”
As the shopkeeper turned and walked to the back wall shelving, Lady Harper turned to Portia and raised her eyebrows. She had a half smile. Portia hoped that was a good sign.
The shopkeeper called out over her shoulder while looking over her ready-made clothes, “Do you still favor black and red?”
Portia realized she was talking to her. “I was hoping for something different this time.”
“Very well. We are off to a good start in that regard since you have not had to visit the well this time.”
Portia’s face flamed. Lady Harper looked at her again, this time her face starkly curious. Portia turned away and pretended to be looking at a dress hanging over a changing room door. She did not want to explain the fact that she had been so filthy last time she had visited this shop that she had been banished to the backyard to bathe before being allowed to try on any clothing. It was mortifying.
Portia was grateful that Lady Harper did not press the issue. Instead, after a moment, she turned and wandered around looking at the wares while waiting for the shopkeeper to return.
It didn’t take long. Alice came back bearing two outfits. One was a cream leather ensemble that resembled Lady Harper’s original white fighting leathers. But this outfit was richer, stitched with what looked like gold reinforced thread. It was gorgeous. Lady Harper sighed in appreciation while touching the detailed stitching.
The clothes Alice brought back to Portia were even finer. They were a dark green pant and doublet top, with a fine linen shirt underneath. There was even a jacket that matched. The material felt like heavy canvas—and indeed was thick—but also soft. It was not as stiff as it looked but somehow, she thought, was just as strong as heavy duck cloth.
They tried on the outfits and, miraculously, both fit exceedingly well. The styling of the cream leather was similar enough to Lady Harper’s original leathers that Portia suspected it was not made in this shop. How did it get here? How often could there be a need for elf-sized garments?
Portia’s outfit hugged her body but still allowed for movement. She tested the pants by crouching and was pleased to note there was no binding. She could duck and move and fight in these pants. They were perfect. The same was true of the top, and even of the jacket. She wanted to pull out her longest knife, the one she wielded as a sword, and test it, but was afraid to do so in the tight confines of the shop. Mimicking the motions she would use in such a battle, she found the garments to be perfect.
Portia was happy but not surprised to find the price of these clothes were, again, reasonable. Or maybe unreasonably inexpensive. But Alice did not seem concerned. She had set the prices herself. And the asking price was so low that even Lady Harper did not haggle, instead handing over the coins without a word of protest.
By the time they were done in the shop and had secured some provisions at the last of the vendors open on the market, it was dinnertime. They went back to the inn to pay for rooms for the night.
Portia had been blissfully distracted all day, but as night approached her thoughts turned to their journey starting again tomorrow. The first day of her trip to Rocabarra had been filled with bloodshed and violence. She hoped the remainder of the trip would not be similar. In either case, she had to face it tomorrow.
Chapter 8
Portia did not sleep well that night. She kept waking, though thankfully she did not have any nightmares. The third time her eyes opened to the dark room she gave a large sigh and sat up. She might as well rise.
She opened the shutters over the window; there was not a hint of sunrise. It was still the middle of the night and the stars shone brightly over the dark town. It would be hours before Lady Harper rose and they would eat breakfast. Only then would they leave for the guardhouse.
Using a hot ember from the fireplace, she lit a candle. She pulled the translated book from her bag, the one that Aelric had created for her. So many things had happened since he had given it to her that she hadn’t been able to look at it until now.
Opening the book under the dim candlelight, she read a middle section at random. It looked like a diary. It was written by someone—she couldn’t tell if it was male or female—who described a boat journey they were on. It talked about the cold water and the dark night sky. These were things she understood. But there were other things that were odd to her. The writer was surprised that there was only one moon in the sky. They were also unhappy that the darkness of night had gone on for so long. They went on to describe their relief when the sun finally rose, and even though the light was annoyingly yellow, it was better than the dark and cold of night.
Perplexed, Portia flipped to the front of the book. Maybe she would understand it better if she read it from the beginning. But that was not as much help as she hoped. Indeed, it started in a confusing way. It talked of stepping into the boat from the Holy Gate. Apparently there had been a rush of people coming out of the gate and onto boats that were waiting for them. For some reason, the boats had to be small and narrow, which sounded dangerous on the rough sea described in the book.
Portia had only seen one harbor in any detail—the harbor at Valencia. There was nothing in the Valencia harbor that could be called a ‘gate’. People entered their boats from the piers. Nothing about the piers restricted the size of the boat, at least nothing that she knew about.
While there was a harbor in Coverack, since both cities were on the same sea, Portia had never spent any time in it. She had seen it from the seawall that edged the city one day, but she had been distracted by all the goings-on at the festival that day and so had not looked all that closely. It had looked much like Valencia’s harbor, just four times as large, if not larger. She would have to ask the guards if they knew of a structure called a gate within a harbor. Or Lady Harper. Portia doubted Lady Harper would know of it since the elves were landlocked, but it was still worth asking about.
Reading on, she realized the writer was a warrior. There was a long section complaining about how difficult it was to keep their weapons dry. The
y also complained that the land was further than they expected it to be and they were worried about exhaustion overcoming them before they could make their strike. They were the forward guard of some force and were charged with preparing the way for more people to come. Nothing in the book spoke about magic, which Portia thought was odd for a book that had been in the Library of Mages.
She was so distracted by her reading that she jumped when a knock sounded on her door. Looking up, she realized the sky was turning a light pink. It was time to get ready. Putting the book down on the bed, she walked to the door. “Who is it?”
A muffled voice said from the other side, “Lady Harper. I have our breakfast packed. We need to leave in five.”
“Okay,” Portia said. She rushed to change into her traveling clothes and pack up her belongings.
The hall of the inn was dark when she exited her room. The silence felt odd. She felt her way to the stairs and made it down to the exterior door and exited. Lady Harper was waiting outside holding the reins to their horse. They walked across the empty square as birds chirped in the nearby trees.
The guard escort was waiting outside the guardhouse. The surly guard and the younger one that Portia guessed was the lieutenant were amongst the waiting men. There were six in total. It did not feel like enough to Portia. There had been two Coverack guards and eight other elves that had perished on their journey to Holne. Portia’s stomach tightened at the thought of returning to the road with these reduced numbers. She hoped they didn’t meet a large bandit group. Perhaps they had killed off the main group.
But at least they could handle an attack by a smaller force.
The surly guard gave a snort as they walked up then glanced at the sun just as it peeked above the horizon. In a low tone he said, “Just in time, eh? Thought we might have to leave you.”
Lady Harper looked at him as a small smile played across her face. “Wouldn’t that be a little odd if the point was to escort us?”
