“Right.” She hadn’t even considered blacksmiths. They didn’t have a horse and they didn’t need weapons, and she’d forgotten that blacksmiths would make iron implements of other kinds, cooking utensils and fire tongs and such. This was why she couldn’t be trusted to do this on her own.
“Thank you,” she said. “For helping with this. Knowing what to do, and everything. You remember how I was when we first went out on the road.” Insufferable. They had both been insufferable. Beyond that, she’d been about as much use in camping as a newborn colt. “Not knowing how to take care of myself, I mean. Well… I’m a little better at housekeeping than camping, I guess. Not by much.”
Keifon squeezed her shoulder. His arm felt nice across her back. “I’m just doing my best, too. I learned about camping in the Army, but I’m out of my depth here, too. To be honest, I’m nervous. That I’m going to botch this, that I won’t know what we need.”
She dodged a low branch of a tree that grew between the street and the wooden walkway. “Yeah, but you’ve done all of this before. — Oh, here’s the street, I think.” They had come to an intersection with another street that ran flat along the side of the hill. From this vantage point, she could spot signs for a butcher’s shop and the dry-goods store that had once occupied her new home. A greengrocer’s shop displayed its piles of spring greens and fresh beans in bins. “How about we take a walk along here and see what’s around?”
“Mmn. Yeah, sounds good.” They rounded the corner past the greengrocer’s. Keifon walked with his hands in his pockets. “The thing is… when I got married and moved back into my parents’ house, everything was ready for us. My cousins had taken over when my parents died, and when I came of age, I just stepped in. I never had to figure things out or plan, just try to follow their lead. Of course, I was useless at that, too.”
Agna let the self-directed insult pass. She didn’t like to let him get away with it, but she had to focus on the problem at hand. “I didn’t realize. I’m sorry for assuming it was your responsibility to figure things out.”
He was hard to hear over the rumble of cart wheels on the street. “I’m sorry I don’t have answers for you. I wish I could be of use to you.”
“You can.” She caught his elbow, and they swung to a stop between a pair of houses. “Just — look. I’m only pretending to be a grownup here. So just help me figure it out. Talk it through with me. If we’re patient and we work together, we can make this work. I don’t really need you to have all the answers.” She watched his shirt front, unable to keep contact with his eyes. “I just need you to be here. So we can work together, and be frustrated and confused. But not alone.”
Before she could register what was happening, he stepped forward and hugged her, in the middle of the street, in front of the entire city of Wildern. Agna refused to peek over his shoulder and see who had noticed. It mattered — if nothing else, he was looking for a new spouse, and it wouldn’t do to give people the wrong impression — but she chose not to think about anything other than hugging him back.
“Thank you so much.” His quiet voice by her ear rose goosebumps along her arms. “I know I can’t stay forever, I know this is just for now, but it means a lot to me. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Always.” She rubbed his back and felt her own nerves calming. There were so many details to remember, to puzzle out. They’d figure it out together.
She gently pulled away, and he ran a hand through his hair as they parted. Agna gave him a soft collegial punch on the arm. “I just thought of another thing. Lamps.”
“Lamps! Yeah. One lamp isn’t going to cut it anymore.”
They continued along the street. Ahead, Agna heard the clang of a blacksmith at work. Another supplier located. “Not with two bedrooms, nope.”
“Mmn.” He watched the traffic pass as they walked, carriages and delivery wagons loading and unloading goods and people in front of stores. “You know, I’ve… I’ve never had a private room before. I’m not sure I want to take up one of your rooms now. I might just stay in the living room, or something.”
“What? Really?” His family hadn’t been particularly well-off, had they? She tended to forget that most families’ houses didn’t have as much space as her family’s estate.
“Mmhm. Shared a room with my brother. Bunked with the other apprentices. Got married, lived with Eri. Then the barracks.”
Between the last two he’d skipped a world of upheaval — his clan stripping him of his status, divorcing Eri, living on the street. It was oddly encouraging that he could skim past those parts of his life, as though they weren’t relevant.
“Oh,” he said, “then the tent, with you. Of course.”
“Of course, how could I forget such palatial accommodations. And now our second-floor city hideaway.”
He was quiet for a few steps. “Yeah.”
“Well, if you ever need company, I’m right down the hall. And I’m sure it will seem less strange over time. It’s lovely to have privacy every now and then.”
“Yeah… yeah, I’ll get used to it.”
She let out the sour mouthful that had begun to ball up in her throat, wanting it to sound light and offhanded. “And before long I’m sure you’ll be married again. Unless you want to get a place of your own first, and see how that feels.”
“If you need me to,” he said.
“No — no, that’s not what I meant. Forget I said that. We’re here now, and we’ll build our new home here. That’s all that matters right now.”
“…Yeah.”
They passed a beggar sitting against the wall of the blacksmith’s shop, and Keifon stooped to add a few coins to his cup. Agna hovered a step away, unsure whether to say anything or to do the same. Before she could come to a decision, they moved on.
Beyond the blacksmith’s shop and its blast of hot air, the street opened into a market square. Canvas booths and wooden kiosks ringed a statue of a man with an axe over his shoulder. The carriage traffic routed around the perimeter, leaving the center free for foot traffic. Agna felt conspicuous, as was typical when she found herself in a Kaveran crowd. She was paler than anyone in this city, probably; people could see her coming and mark her as a foreigner a mile away. And no one could confuse Keifon for a native, either. The two of them stuck out everywhere they went. Well, if she meant to stay in Kavera, she’d have to get used to it.
To distract herself, she scanned the square. The nearest stall held stacks of newspapers, and a crier outside read the headlines between transactions.
“Ooh, newspapers. I’d love to get a subscription once we get settled.” Her father had received two daily papers — one international edition, which Agna had pored over as soon as she’d learned to read, and the Criterion, from Murio. There had also been a sheet of classified advertisements and art industry news that had arrived weekly. For a while, she’d gotten her own subscription in her mailbox in the student union. She’d enjoyed the thought of being connected and being a real art-industry adult more than she’d enjoyed the tightly-packed, jargon-filled reality of reading it.
She stepped up to buy a paper from the crier for a few copper coins. It was a simple broadsheet, front and back, with local news and advertisements jammed in among opinion columns and announcements. She folded it in quarters and slipped it into her pocket for later, next to the shopping list.
They threaded between the clusters of shoppers to take in a full round of the market, debating what to cook for lunch or dinner, given their small collection of cooking implements. Midway through the circuit, the scent wafting from a food cart put an end to the lunch half of that discussion. Agna bought them each a pork-stuffed pastry, and they shooed enough pigeons away to take a seat on a bench at the heels of the lumberman’s statue.
“I know it’s an indulgence,” she said, as he morosely eyed the wrapper of his pastry. “Let me indulge. It’s our first real day in town.”
“All right… well, I saw a secondhand shop a ways back, on
the way in. We can start there for lamps and cookware and things.”
Apart from books, Agna had never bought a secondhand object in her life — though, come to think of it, she didn’t know the provenance of the camping supplies she’d bought along their travels. Perhaps she was assuming facts not in evidence.
“Good idea,” she said, took another bite, and left it at that.
Her life was already bound to be different from her parents’, in so many ways that she’d get dizzy listing them all. There was no need to hew to some notion of respectability over such a small thing as secondhand cookware. In fact, if Keifon had better ideas about living within their means as they got established, she’d do well to learn from him. But she’d fight for the occasional street-cart lunch. You had to take the easy way out at least some of the time.
As they ate, a young couple, each carrying an infant in a sling, stopped in front of them. One glanced their way, turned, and addressed them. “Oh, hello, are you new in town? Here to work in the hospital? Or the mountain road?” Her Kaveran was over-enunciated and a little too loud, sending a hot flush into Agna’s face. She’d studied the language for six years, thank you, no need to speak to her like a toddler.
Keifon answered before she could scrape together a civil answer. “Hello. We’re here to work at the hospital, yes. I’m Keifon, and this is my friend Agna. She’s a Balance healer. How old are they?” He waved at the nearer baby, who stared raptly at them.
“Imara is nine months, and Oli is seven and a half months.” She laid a hand on the other child’s head as it nursed. The other mother cast a dark look toward the interlopers — as Agna suspected they were — but her mistrust was cracking under Keifon’s interest in the children. He got so gushy that it had won over just about every parent who had set foot in their traveling clinic. Agna would let him work his magic. She had no clue about kids anyway.
“They’re adorable,” he said.
“Thank you! Do you have any of your own?” She’d eased off the too-crisp speaking-to-children voice, though her glance flicked between Keifon and Agna in a way that Agna could only read as nervous.
Keifon sailed on, undaunted. “A seven-year-old back in Yanwei, with her mother. I miss having little ones. Someday.”
“Are you staying in town long-term? Moving your family down, all of that?”
“Oh — well — her mother and I are divorced, but Agna and I hope to stay, yes.” He gave Agna a “take over the story” nudge.
“I’m working to open a museum and art gallery, with a local historian. We’ve just arrived, though. This is our first trip around the neighborhood.”
The friendlier woman hiked her baby up in the sling, beaming. “Well, welcome then! The District is lovely, and you’re here at the right time. It’ll really be something in a few more years.”
“Mm-mm,” her wife said, tucking a shawl around her baby. “Remains to be seen. Everything’s in flux, and with all these… new people coming in, the balance could tip either way. You’d see it if you were born here, hon. It’s complicated.”
“Foreigners or not, it’s still nice to see new people coming in, as long as they’re hard-working and not some gang of transients. There’s more to do here than there was when I got here, and that was just a few years ago. I’m a teacher in the Benevolents’ school,” she added. “So I suppose we’re fellow agents, as well as neighbors. Tira is a weaver, her shop is over on Ashlawn.”
“Ah. We’ll have to check it out,” Agna said. “Is that shawl your work? It’s beautiful. Is it — oh, the name in Kaveran escapes me. The mountain goat wool.”
“Cashmere,” the weaver said. “It is. Thank you.”
Keifon slipped back into the conversation. “If I may, actually — since you’re familiar with the area. We still have to furnish Agna’s new house. What’s the best place to get some affordable furniture?”
The couple traded a look. “Hmm,” said the teacher. “Mari’s?”
“High-end, if you want it,” the weaver said. “For everyday, you’ll want Exceptional Furnishings. That street, this way.” She pointed along the direction of the statue’s gaze, toward the hills. “A block and a half, toward Oldtown.”
Agna fixed the directions in her memory. “Thank you very much.”
“You’re welcome. See you around.”
“See you,” Keifon said. “Thanks again.”
The couple continued their walk, bouncing the older child as it began to fuss. Agna watched Keifon as he watched them go, and took a smug bite of her pastry. “That’s your dream scenario, isn’t it. Two babies at once. Starting off with a big family right away.”
Keifon turned his attention to his lunch. His voice was low. “I’d need two surrogates. It would be expensive. Difficult. Or a wife and a surrogate at once.”
At the mention of surrogates, an unsettled feeling washed through Agna’s middle. She’d blundered right into it, of course, and now regretted it. Children were everywhere, and naturally they came from somewhere, but to tread near the business of their gestation felt like getting caught snooping in her parents’ room.
Besides, it wasn’t as though having kids was a normal topic of conversation between peers. Children belonged to parents, not, well, regular people. Keifon already had a daughter, a fact she had enough trouble getting her head around, but he still didn’t seem like a parent. He didn’t have life figured out yet. He insisted he wasn’t sure what they needed to get started in life. He’d had plenty of training and experience in medicine, and he would soon return to being an apprentice. He was still learning and growing — like her. That was why they could muddle through this together. To jump ahead to a future where he was already remarried and picking out surrogates was to leave herself alone, left behind.
“Well,” she said. “Either way, make sure you choose well. Or you’ll have to answer to me.”
He looked down at his half-finished lunch. “Mmn. I’ll have to find a Lundran church. They would have matchmaking services. If they could find anyone willing.”
Hearing the doubt creep into his voice, Agna nudged him in the side. “Highest bidder, more like. Wildern’s mysterious new doctor. You’ll be a hot commodity.”
“Apprentice. Hopefully.”
“One step at a time. Get some furniture, chat up some married ladies, reputation spreads… I don’t know how this works.” She finished her pastry and crumpled the newspaper wrapping.
He chuckled thinly. “Not quite like that.”
Agna leaned back on the bench, crossing one knee over the other, and fluffed out her skirts. As Keifon finished his lunch, she watched the crowds. The Wildernian population seemed to be predominantly Kaveran, though she thought she spotted a Yanweian once or twice. It was late morning on a fine spring day, and the farm stalls were doing brisk business in early greens and onion sprouts. She’d never been this far north at this time of year, but she had the impression that Kavera’s short growing season was even more pronounced here. She’d have to find out what people ate all winter.
“Hey. Have you ever preserved anything?”
Keifon swallowed. “…What?”
Agna blinked, realizing that the context was solely in her head. “…Oh. Um, for the winter. Jarring up preserves and vegetables and things. Because you can’t grow all year round here.”
“Ah. I haven’t, personally. I’ve seen it done.”
“We’ll have to learn,” she said. “I’ll check the library.”
“Mmn. Sounds interesting. It’s another thing we can do with a real kitchen.”
“Yep.” Thinking about it chased away her strange, sick feeling. She could find some cookbooks at the library, or at a book shop. And if she wanted to make some jam when strawberries were in season, it wasn’t an unreasonable indulgence, too heavy to carry on the road. They didn’t have to carry everything with them, rethinking every purchase based on weight and space. Sure, she’d have to devote most of her salary from the Benevolent Union contract toward her payments
on the building and toward purchasing art, but she could have things for herself, too.
It felt ungrateful to feel so elated over leaving the caravan. She’d left behind a dear friend in Nelle, the caravan herbalist, and she’d given up the opportunity to see the country and help scores of people. If the Union needed her here — and she saw no reason why they wouldn’t need a second-order Academy-trained healer — then she could help people and still sleep in a real bed, the same one, every night. It was an attractive proposition after a year of sleeping in a folding cot, and before that, a year of sleeping on the ground.
As Keifon finished his pastry, Agna jumped up. “Want to check out this Exceptional Furnishings place?”
“Sure. It’s a lead, at least.”
They rounded the statue toward one of the streets that intersected with the square. “Oh, right,” Agna said. “After that, we’ll need sheets and mattresses and things. Ugh. Let’s just keep camping.”
“That’s clearly the answer,” Keifon said dryly.
The street lying along the statue’s line of sight was lined with barrels planted with the stubby sprouts of ornamental plants. A teahouse faced a clothier, a few houses with tall windows followed, and then a shop with lathe-turned woodwork around the windows and doors. Agna pushed open the door, triggering a bell.
“Be right with you!” The proprietor called, as he showed a set of chairs to a middle-aged couple.
“No hurry!”
They meandered through a forest of tables and chairs, coat racks and headboards. The carpenter’s work seemed solidly built, with just a little ornamentation on the finials and feet, polished to a dark shine. Agna stroked the long line of a couch back. “We should look for a couch soon, too. Somewhere to sit by the fire.”
“Mmmn. Priorities, though.”
“Yes, yes, all right. Well. Bed frames and kitchen table and chairs. Agreed?”
The Healers' Home Page 3
