Moss Gate

by Alex Linwood

  “Child, are you okay?”

  “Yes, sorry, just a little tired I think,” Portia said weakly.

  “And when was the last time you ate? Was that your supper she was bringing out?”

  “Probably… sorry,” Portia said, embarrassed that it might have been her order that caused this whole ordeal.

  “No sorry needed. It’s not your fault. Go sit down and your meal will be out soon.”

  Portia was only seated at a table for a few minutes when a glass of ale, a large bowl of stew, a huge chunk of bread, a bowl of greens, and a giant bowl of cherries and cream were laid out in front of her. She looked up, surprised to see two elves beaming at her. They nodded in unison and said, “Thank you for helping our friend.”

  Tears welled up in Portia’s eyes. “You’re welcome, but I can’t pay for all this—”

  One of the elves winked at her. “We said thank you. And we mean it.”

  The other elf piped in. “We hear you’re staying here for a week. Your dinners are on us.”

  Portia’s jaw dropped. Before she could thank them, the two elves walked away, leaving Portia to face the incredible feast in front of her. The aromatic stew tickled her nose and her stomach growled in response. She grabbed a hunk of bread and stuffed it in her mouth then tried to spoon in stew too, spilling some of it down her chin.

  It all tasted so good.

  Lady Harper did not return the next day. Portia slept in late. She chewed on the stale bread and last of the jerky while looking out the window and wondering what to do.

  The inn was on a quiet street. All she could see out her window was the cobblestone road leading off in either direction flanked by buildings several stories tall. Once in a while an elf would walk by. She even saw a human who scurried along, looking around him as he went. He looked harried.

  The remains of her rations were not enough to satisfy her growling stomach. She would have to resupply. Ever since being an orphan and feeling hungry far too often, Portia had made an effort to always have some sort of food in her bags. She never wanted to feel hungry again. So it was time to resupply.

  She checked her moneybag. It was still half full. A pang of guilt hit her stomach—some of that money was from the felled elves and soldiers in the woods between Holne and Coverack. But spending that money would not make them any deader than they were.

  But first, she wanted breakfast.

  Grabbing her moneybag and the translated book, she went downstairs to the tavern. She passed a few unsmiling elves on the way. The tavern itself was packed with elves having lunch. A few turned to look at her, their expressions stern. The unsmiling faces were getting to her when one of the servers spied her standing by the door and came running over, a big grin on her face. It was one of the two from last night—one of the pair that had brought the free supper.

  “Welcome. Come, there’s a seat over here,” the elf said. She led Portia to a quiet table along the back wall. Portia was grateful to be out of sight of most of the patrons. “I’m Jsoth,” the elf said, her hand on her chest. “What’s your name?”

  “Portia.”

  “Well, Portia, are you hungry?”

  “Very.” Reflexively, Portia put her arm over her growling stomach.

  “Excellent. I’ll be back.” Jsoth turned without another word, walking to the kitchen.

  “Wait, I don’t know how much—”

  Jsoth called over her shoulder, “Don’t worry, you’ll get the special.” Then she was gone, leaving Portia alone at the table. No one was staring at her at the moment. Portia pulled the book out of her pocket and laid it on the table. She was curious to know more about the warrior who had written it.

  Portia had just opened the book when Jsoth was back bearing a tray of food. She put out a plate of meat and cakes, a tall glass of pink juice, and a steaming mug. The food smelled delicious. Jsoth gave Portia a wink and walked off.

  Lunch was delicious. She had never seen juice that color, but it was sweet and rich and a bit salty. The meat was crispy. The mug was full of broth, hot and rich. It filled her stomach and warmed her body. Portia felt instantly better when she started eating. She hadn’t realized how hungry she had been. The previous day’s events and her long sleep had used up all the food she had eaten last night.

  The tavern was emptying out as elves left after finishing their lunches. Portia thought it would be okay to sit there for a while and read her book. She didn’t want to return to her room. It was small and quiet. Too quiet. She preferred to be here, around others, even if they weren’t the friendliest except for the servers and cook staff. Her decision was sealed when Jsoth came back and topped off her mug and took away her empty plates.

  She found her place in the book again. The author had just gotten onto the boat along with several other warriors of the advance guard. They were crossing the sea at night, the sounds of more warriors exiting the gate and going onto boats behind them. The author mentioned twenty-one boats. Portia wondered how many were on each boat—perhaps ten or twenty? Or more? In any event, it was several hundred, if not more.

  Then, for some reason the author did not describe, no others were allowed to come. They were on their own. The rest of the book was hard for Portia to read, describing in graphic detail many battles and their violence. The author seemed to relish that part and gloried in its descriptions. Portia shut the book quickly when it talked about a pool of blood lapping at the ankles of the attackers. She hoped it was exaggeration. If not, it was the worst thing she’d ever read.

  Portia decided to explore the city with the rest of the sunlight. She hoped to find a market where she could buy some food and supplies. And perhaps a needle and thread—her clothing could use some repairs. The Sika saddles had pulled on her pants and were hard on the seams.

  She walked about the city, ignoring the unpleasant looks that occasionally came her way. The city was unusually quiet, at least relative to what Portia was used to. She couldn’t find a market to buy any further foodstuffs. Hopefully, it was just the wrong day, and perhaps tomorrow vendors would come into the city. If not, she would have to brave walking into one of the shops, but she didn’t feel like facing an unwelcoming face just yet.

  The next several days passed much the same. By the fourth day, Portia was pacing her small room trying to decide what to do. She had lost her enthusiasm for exploring the city when all she encountered was glare after glare. Once or twice she had spied a human in the distance and ran off to talk to them, but it was as if they had a second sense, and they avoided her by ducking into alleys and side streets and vanishing without a trace. Rocabarra was not a good place to be a human.

  Portia also kept reading the book, or at least trying to, but had to stop often and put it down. Even though the actions were done long ago, her heart pounded and ached at the stories of hurt and death it described.

  The only highlight of her days were the meals in the tavern. The dinners were free, and lunches were just a few coppers for a splendid spread. She thought she would have to ask Jsoth for a needle and thread if she couldn’t find any within the town. Or at least a store that would be willing to sell to her.

  A knock sounded at her door one evening. Opening it, she found Lady Harper standing there. A mixture of relief at seeing the elf and some anger at being left alone for so long surged. She tried to remind herself there was probably a good reason.

  “Good, I’m glad you’re here,” Lady Harper said, walking into Portia’s tiny room. She sat down on the bed uninvited and looked around. “Small even for an inn.”

  “It is small,” Portia said, thinking how tiny it was when you had to spend all day there. “Where have you been?”

  “In the inner city. Things are bad. I have never seen the city like this before. But then again these times are unusual, which is why we had been sent to Coverack to seek an alliance.”

  “An alliance? I don’t understand. You said the elves and humans already had a treaty.” Portia asked, confused.

 
“Yes, a treaty. But we need to work together beyond just a treaty of peace. We need to work together with our armies and our mages and our resources. This is not something that has ever happened before in our history, at least not that I know of.” Lady Harper picked at the fabric of her gown. She was back to wearing the flowing robes of different shades of blue. She looked regal, very much a part of the royal house. “Unfortunately, extreme factions in the city are rising up because of the rumors of coming chaos. There has also been some unusual violence. Some are blaming outsiders, specifically humans. But I have managed to talk a senior advisor into coming to meet you. He might have some ideas of how to proceed further.”

  “A senior advisor?” Portia asked, unsure what that meant.

  “Yes, formally they are called Guardians of the City. They are close advisors to the king. This one would like to meet you, enough to venture out from the inner circle.” Lady Harper looked closely at Portia.

  Portia had washed her clothes and made an effort to look presentable but knew she did not look impressive. Their days of riding horses and stags had taken a toll on her outfit. She still had not found a needle and thread to fix the seams on her pants. Portia’s face turned red. She felt shabby compared to the tiny elegant elf.

  Lady Harper pursed her lips as she continued her inspection. “The first order of business is to make you look more presentable. Is that your best outfit?”

  Portia looked down at the green outfit she had purchased while in Holne. It was her best outfit. She’d left her red kirtle back in Coverack, and she had only her old thieving clothes with her besides what she was wearing now. She nodded at the elf.

  “I see. Well, a good pressing will bring a lot of improvement. Change out of those clothes and hand them to me. I’ll take them down and see what I can do. I’ll also get a private parlor for us while I’m at it.”

  Her outfit did look much better when there were clean press lines along the sleeves and the pants. Whoever had taken them to press had also fixed the ripped seam on her pants. Portia was grateful. Checking her reflection in the mirror in her room, she decided she was ready to face someone from a royal house. At least she didn’t look like a shabby urchin from the street.

  The parlor that Lady Harper had rented was small but plush. Three soft chairs were arranged around a fireplace and there was a small table with jugs of mead and wine along with a tray of glasses. Lady Harper and Portia settled into the chairs around the fire and waited for the appearance of the steward. The innkeeper knew where to bring him when he arrived. He had been rather nervous when Lady Harper told him who was coming. It took several coins slipped into his pocket to calm his nerves. She assured him over and over again that his inn would be more than welcoming enough.

  A little over an hour later, there was a knock at the door of the parlor. The nervous innkeeper opened the door a crack and peeked in. He was wringing his hands. Sweat dotted his brow. “My Lady Harper, our esteemed guest has arrived.”

  Lady Harper chuckled, for she could see the advisor peering over the head of the nervous innkeeper, who was blocking the entrance to the room and making rather a mess of himself in front of the high company. She bit back a laugh and drew up a serious face. “Please, kind sir, do let him in.”

  The innkeeper turned to the hallway and realized his mistake. His face turned a brilliant red. He scurried back out of the way and gently shut the door after the advisor entered.

  The royal advisor was tall for an elf. Portia thought he might even be taller than she was herself, and she was not short for a human. He was also thin, as if some giant had taken a normal-sized elf and stretched him head to foot to make him taller. Fluffy hair that ringed his head surrounded a tan bald spot in the middle. A maze of wrinkles covered his face and even his hands. Belying his wizened appearance, he stood up straight. Portia thought it was an odd combination of youth and age.

  “Greetings, Lady Harper,” he said, with a bow.

  “And to you too, Sir Alboka. Allow me to introduce you to Portia, the human I told you about.”

  Sir Alboka turned to Portia and considered her. Portia felt uncomfortable under his gaze. His twinkling eyes met hers and he gave her a smile. “Greetings, Portia the human. I understand you are key to our proposed alliance with Coverack.”

  Portia gave him a weak smile and tried to execute a curtsy. She lost her balance, and it ended up being more of a stumble combined with a bow. Nervous butterflies tickled her stomach. Having the hope of the kingdom pinned on her was too much pressure. It didn’t seem real. Especially not right now. “Greetings, sir. I’m not so sure—”

  Lady Harper waved her to silence. “Let’s have some wine, shall we, and then we can talk.” Lady Harper poured wine for all three of them and motioned for them to sit in the chairs by the fire. “All right, Sir Alboka, you have met her. Please, if you will, kindly tell us what we must do.”

  Portia’s eyes widened at Lady Harper’s casual tone, but Sir Alboka just laughed. He sat back in his chair and sipped the wine, raising his eyebrows at its taste and looking at Lady Harper. She gave him a satisfied smile and raised her own glass. Portia took a sip of her wine out of curiosity and was shocked at the quality. It tasted of flowers and honey. She wondered how much it had cost Lady Harper. It wasn’t the sort of thing she expected at such an average inn.

  “You never did show proper respect to your elders, Lady Harper, or should I say betters?” he said, a twinkle in his eye.

  “Let’s just stick with ‘elders’, shall we? Then there won’t be any room for debate.” Lady Harper turned her gaze to Portia and said, “I have known this rascal my entire life. And so did my mother. And her mother before her.”

  “All right, you’ve made your point. Let’s not bore the girl with counting ancestors,” Sir Alboka admonished, but there was humor in his tone.

  The laughter died away. The three of them sipped their wine thoughtfully in silence.

  “In all seriousness, things are not well,” Sir Alboka said. “The inner city has been completely shut off from all newcomers, I am sorry to say, and that includes you, young Portia. They are unwilling to allow the teacher of the Healing of the Splinter outside the inner city walls, nor will they grant permission for him to even teach you without meeting you. I do understand that is why you’re here, is it not? You can do magic of all sorts, like an elf?”

  Portia didn’t know how to answer that. She could do more magic than the average human, but she didn’t know if she could do all sorts, not the way the elves could. “I was told I was a Jack of Magic. I’m not quite sure what that means. They made me take some dreadful test though to come here—one where I nearly died.”

  Lady Harper raised one eyebrow at Portia. “Nearly died? I don’t remember that part.”

  “Well, I could have died.” It was true, she could have died. She still didn’t understand why the test was set up the way it was. Part of her was angry at Lady Harper, and maybe even at Queen Lorica for putting her in that situation. She forced herself to breathe in slowly and calm down. It was not this elf’s fault.

  “But you did not die since you are here in front of me now,” Sir Alboka said, a bit puzzled as to why this was being brought up.

  “Yes, that is true. But what I don’t understand is, why can’t I go in and meet the king and that teacher if I passed the test? Can’t the king just decree it?” Portia asked.

  “King Magnus and Queen Ceola are indeed interested in meeting you. But they cannot unilaterally allow you into the inner city, not when all outsiders have been forbidden by the council made up by city lords. King Magnus does not have absolute power in the kingdom. The royal house rules with the support of the lords, and as such, he cannot just overrule them. Unfortunately, they are quite worked up at the moment. They have gone so far as to demand the banishment of all outsiders. Applying this to the inner city is just a start for what many want. Many are pressing to go even further and banish all non-elves and other outsiders from the entire city, and perhaps
even the entire kingdom. There are rallying cries that the wall is there for a reason and we should not forget it.”

  Lady Harper tsked at this. “This is a sudden change indeed. There was not a breath of this just last month when I set off on my journey.”

  “It may seem sudden, but I fear it is based on deep passions. The fear of what has happened before is coming back. That is what has terrified so many of the city. It doesn’t help that the violence on the streets has seemingly come out of nowhere.” His face looked grim. “And it is primarily directed at children.”

  Lady Harper sucked in her breath at this. Portia felt a little ill herself. It reminded her of the culture in Valencia, with all its orphans on the street and the struggle of the little ones to survive. What was going on?

  Sir Alboka continued. “The violence of the last month has put everyone on edge. It seems to come only from outsiders—some claim humans are responsible—and as an outsider yourself, Portia, you are not trusted. You can understand that?”

  Portia nodded mutely.

  Sir Alboka rose and refilled his glass, bringing the bottle around to refill Lady Harper’s and Portia’s as well. “But there are rules, even in this time of stress. One of the ironclad rules of the city is that if you are declared a friend of the city, you are not an outsider, not ever. You cannot be barred from any portion of the city that a rightful citizen can go. Obtaining that status would be the easiest way for you to gain access. It would also be politically expedient for the king and queen to say that you are a friend of the city. They could get you in without a direct conflict with the lords.” Sir Alboka sat down heavily. “There are those that do not believe in what our mages tell us about the future. King Magnus and Queen Ceola believe them. They want all the resources of the city allied behind them, including the lords. They believe unity is necessary.” He drained his second glass of wine and placed it on the table next to him.

  “Ah, so there is the path open to us,” Lady Harper said.