by P. A. Wilson
Spring heart took a small bottle from his pack. “This is the full dose. Take what you need. Let’s find a corner where I can watch you and the scree.”
* * *
That was not a pleasant trip, Maynard thought as he disembarked the small boat transporting the few passengers from the ship to the docks. Their passage had been difficult enough with the headwind making the seas choppy, but then a squall had attacked them, forcing everyone below decks to avoid being swept off the ship. He’d been lucky to avoid seasickness until he heard the evidence of others’ experience. Then his nightmare had begun. What should have been a day’s journey at most had taken almost two. Even worse, he had to face a return trip when he was finished finding an elf to take the damn stone, and getting some kind of recognition that he’d beaten Springheart and Willowvine.
On firm ground he immediately felt health win the battle for his stomach. He was here and the elves were not. They were probably on their way, but he had at least three hours. In that time, he could easily set false trails, stock up for a journey, find a contact with the local elves, clean himself, and eat.
Clean and fed were the priorities. No one would work with him in this state. He smelled bad even to himself.
The side streets away from the docks were set up for passengers who needed the fast services that Maynard craved. Within an hour, he was clean, sitting at a table in new clothes, eating a fine meal. He really should come to the mainland more often. Perhaps when he was raised to be a board member, he would offer to liaise with The City. Surely there were ways of minimizing the discomfort of the passage.
Meal finished, he made arrangements to return for his laundered clothes in a few days. He needed little in the way of supplies. Once he was prepared, there would be time to set a few false trails before buying the information he needed to sell the stone.
Next door to the washhouse was a travel supply store. The merchants here were far cleverer than those on Lands Home. Convenience for the customer seemed to be the rule. He dug a few coins out of the supply, noting with concern how little was left after the passage cost. But then, it only had to last until he could sell back the stone. The elves would be generous. He smiled at the thought that they would have no choice in the matter.
Emerging a few minutes later with a travel sack that was ready stocked, Maynard added the bag containing the stone to the rest of his supplies and made his way back to the docks. Only two tasks left before he could leave The City, and any followers, behind.
The bustle on the docks hadn’t diminished in the time he was gone. There seemed to be a frantic aspect to the work. Maynard looked for a likely candidate to bribe into setting a false trail and saw a man sipping caf at an outside table. As he watched, two men consulted with the caf drinker before rushing off to follow orders, or advice.
Maynard sat at a table close by, ordered caf that he didn’t want and started a conversation. “Busy today,” he said noncommittally.
“Tide confusion, we call it,” the man answered, keeping his eyes on the frantic activity. “Don’t happen often, but enough that we got a way of handling it.”
Maynard watched for a few more minutes before asking, “What exactly is tide confusion?”
The man gave him a glance that was probably meant to express Maynard’s stupidity for not knowing. “One tide slow sailing because of bad weather, the other tide fast because the weather clears. Hits us because we don’t have regular dockings. Ships stay out there and expect to leave right away to time their next port.” He pointed to the horizon where a line of ships was starting to turn away. “We got to get this stored to make room for the next load. See?” His arm shifted just to the right of the departing vessels.
Maynard saw a ship appear around the point of land that obscured the open water. His heart stopped and his voice trembled as he asked, “Where are they sailing from?”
The man shook his head at the ignorance of people. “Only place over there is Lands Home. That’s the first ship on the night tide.”
Maynard numbly thanked the man and left the table. There was nothing to be gained from staying on the docks. The priority was finding the closest family of elves before Springheart or Willowvine found him.
Chapter 38
Sleep had been the right choice, Willowvine thought as they stood waiting for the boat to take them to The City. She kept her hood tightly closed and her eyes cast down to avoid a slip at the last minute. The thought of a bath, or at least the opportunity to wash her face, shone brightly through the waning seasickness.
Springheart was behind her with most of their baggage, maintaining the fiction that he was escorting a student to school. There were two boats ready to take passengers away, and presumably bring new ones aboard. She managed to maneuver them onto the same one as the scree. Fingers itching to rummage through his bags, she sat behind him. He was definitely feeling the effects of the drug. Face pale through the normal sun darkened tone, eyes bloodshot, braids bunched from sleep, he leaned on the side of the boat and closed his eyes.
“Wait,” Springheart breathed into her ear. “On the dock, I’ll distract him, you just need to make sure he gets everything back before he notices.”
Willowvine made no indication that she’d heard.
The docks started as a black wall. As their shuttle neared, it resolved into a complicated face of ladders, ropes, and pulleys. Soon she could see people hurrying along the edge preparing to receive whatever came off the boats. They would have a lot of cover for their plan.
Within moments their boat was tied up beside the wall, each passenger boosted onto the ladder to climb the few rungs to the top of the docks. The scree was the last one off the boat. By the time he planted his feet on the stones of the dock and placed his bags beside him, they were in the middle of a rush of activity as crates were tossed to the sailors below.
Willowvine watched as Springheart bumped the scree away from his bag, turning him around as he began a long complicated apology that was guaranteed to further befuddle the drug dozy man. She ran to crouch beside the bag, undoing the drawstring cord to see the contents. Clothes, a bag of coin, smaller than the one they had. A short sword, club, and some jewelry made of bones, feathers, and silver. No instructions to help them with their mission. Drawing the bag closed again, she glanced at Springheart who slowed his apology, ending just as she stepped away from the scree’s belongings.
A flick of Springheart’s fingers indicated the street she should take to meet him. There was a store on the corner and she pretended to window shop while Springheart made his way toward her. The scree stumbled toward the street that held his embassy. She smiled as she realized that he didn’t even suspect they were in front of him.
Relieved that they had managed to avoid notice, Willowvine followed Springheart to their destination: a Mariai inn owned by Zerenia, a woman who had aided Madeline before her journey to the elven lands.
It was only a short walk to the cool of the shuttered lobby of the inn. Willowvine relaxed as they entered. Here she could be an elf. She loosened the strings holding her hood in place and freed her braid.
Springheart placed their bags on the floor beside the reception desk. “Is Zerenia in residence?” They had counted on her using her spies to find Maynard, and to distract the scree.
“It has been too long, Springheart.” The voice came from the doorway of a small room off to the side of the lobby. Willowvine would never understand the need to tattoo your heritage on your face, but that was the Mariai way. Zerenia was small, and despite the numerous facial tattoos, she exuded elegance.
Beckoning them to her private quarters, Zerenia ordered refreshments and sent Willowvine into her private convenience to clean up. Leaving Springheart to relate the details of their mission while she was gone.
When Willowvine returned, feeling clean and more alert, Zerenia was pouring tea.
“How can I help?” the Mariai woman asked.
“We need to know where Maynard Slack has gone, and w
hen, and we need the scree distracted.” Springheart reached for their bag. “I am willing to offer a favor or coin in payment.”
“Coin will do. I am owed far too many favors at this moment. Coin pays the bills faster. We will discuss how much when we are done.” Zerenia said and then left the room to make arrangements.
“So, you think she’s going to do a vision for us?” Willowvine asked.
Passing a plate of pastries to her, Springheart answered, “No, she will use her spies. We don’t have the time for a vision. Eat. We may be on short rations after paying her fee.”
A few minutes after leaving, Zerenia returned. “I have made a room available for you to use while we wait. Rest while you are there. I anticipate it will only be an hour or so before you have your information and we have the scree stumbling around in the wrong direction.”
* * *
Springheart stood at the open windows to the back patio. He’d left Willowvine to unpack while he cleaned up. Now their possessions were on the bed in two piles, one that they definitely needed, and one that they could manage without. A few of the items in the first pile could be sold if they needed to raise funds, but he hoped they wouldn’t need to waste time with that.
“Should we send a bird to the guild to let them know where we are?” she asked.
He turned at the sound of paper being folded. She was repacking what they would take. “We can’t take the chance that it will be intercepted. The guild board only wants us to succeed. They don’t care what problems we run into along the way.”
It was good that she thought about the value of communication with the guild. They couldn’t stay a team forever. Eventually they would take separate contracts, or more likely, they would part ways. He knew she thought him overly cautious, but it was important to survive a contract as well as to complete it. If she were developing a little caution, it would serve her well.
“When we start our own guild, I think it would be better to have regular reports. That way we won’t have surprises when our couriers get into trouble.”
He was about to remind her that he hadn’t agreed to this new guild idea, when he was interrupted by a soft tap at the door.
A servant stood outside. “Bring your things, my mistress has the information you need.”
Willowvine quickly stuffed their belongings into the packs, the sorting forgotten in her haste.
In Zerenia’s room, they stood eager to get going as soon as the information was passed.
“You are fortunate,” she said from her place at the table. “Your Maynard Slack left the city for a small village just to the east. It is called Hanstone. My sources believe he is waiting there to meet someone.”
Their luck had changed. Springheart would take that as a good sign and maybe think more positively. After all, Willowvine was probably not the only one who needed to make some changes. He was in danger of becoming an old elf before his time. “And the scree?”
Zerenia laughed. “It is not difficult to raise barriers to anything the scree wish to accomplish. They would be better served making allies rather than displaying their strength. You will not be followed for several hours, if at all.”
He drew out the coin pouch. “Will we need transportation to Hanstone?”
“It is an easy two hours’ travel, perhaps less with your elven stamina.”
“The cost?”
He was willing to pay without haggling. Zerenia would be fair unless she had changed radically from the woman he met only five years ago.
“You may need the coin. I will only take expenses now. You can pay me my fee later. Ten coins will be sufficient. Fifty later.”
It was a costly fee, but the information was prompt and to their needs. He handed over the ten coins. As long as they didn’t need to spend anything until they left, the remaining coins would pay their fare to Crous. They would have to work their passage back to Lands Home.
Chapter 39
“Do you think he’s moving on, or staying?” Willowvine asked as they passed through the gates and headed over the sand toward Hanstone. She could feel success as though it was an aura. They would find Maynard, retrieve the stone, and return it to the proper place as quickly as a boat could get them to Crous.
Raising their pace to a trot, Springheart answered, “I don’t know, but he would be wise to find an agent rather than try to contact the elven council himself. Let’s hope that this agent is meeting him in Hanstone.”
“Wouldn’t any elf help reclaim the stone?”
Were her people so stuck in tradition that they would rather die than take help from a human?
“They would, but not willingly.”
“That’s crazy.” She knew there was something she’d missed thinking about when Springheart simply glanced at her. He was determined to make her learn this lesson, to turn her into a thinker when she really was better at doing things and cleaning up any problems that came of her actions. The tactic had worked up to now, and she couldn’t imagine a situation that they couldn’t handle.
Jogging along beside him gave her nothing to do except think, and despite her preference for action she realized the puzzle had captured her imagination.
Her people were probably the first inhabitants of Cartref, the elven word for home, family, and security. They’d protected the world from invaders, welcomed the survivors and retreated farther into their territory as each new species found a place of their own. Now they were, if not hated, scorned by other peoples. Fear of their fighting skills reached into even the scree warrior heart.
“Is it pride?” she asked.
“Some of it is, at least in individuals. You saw how hard it was for the general to really thank Madeline and Jode. For all the invasions until the last, they never asked for help. Most people lost the knowledge of their arrival within a generation, certainly fast enough to be ignorant about the next invasion.”
He faced forward again. Willowvine took that as her cue to return to her own thinking.
If it wasn’t pride, there was one other emotion strong enough to explain everything. “Fear.”
Springheart smiled.
Surprised that she had it right, she asked, “What could they fear so much that they would exile orphans and risk their future to stay in hiding?” Willowvine didn’t look at her companion for an answer. Her question was to prompt her own thinking.
And what will happen to Cartref if the elves are gone?
She couldn’t find a way to answer the question. At the thought of Cartref without elves, a hole seemed to open inside her. Something black, like the being in the well between worlds grasped at her spirit. “We can’t fail,” she whispered. “We can’t let the elves die out.”
Springheart looked at her and came to a stop, reaching as though to catch her. “What happened? You are so white I can see your veins.”
Willowvine bent at the waist to allow blood to reach her head. “I don’t know.” She explained the feeling that had filled her. “I think we are linked to Cartref, that our lives are the world’s life. If we are gone, darkness will come.”
He motioned for her to sit on the grass verge. They had left the desert behind them while she was lost in thought. “We can take a few minutes for you to recover. Has this happened before? Are you a seer? No, don’t answer, rest. I will stop asking stupid questions.”
She waited until the cold that had followed the darkness receded, and heat from the setting sun warmed life back into her body. Little sounds of birds and the breeze comforted her. “No I don’t think I can call prophecy. It felt as though the thought came from somewhere else.”
From Cartref? No that was crazy.
When she felt strength fill her, Willowvine stood. “We need to get this done. At least some elves are brave enough to try to fix this. While we are outside the elven lands, we are not going to be obstructed by other elves, but I don’t think we can rely on help form them either.”
Springheart took a moment to ensure she was back to normal before setting a
faster pace than before. “It is good that you have given up this revenge.”
She chuckled. “I’m just willing to wait until the stone is in its place. They still need to pay for the way they treat orphans. What on Cartref could they fear from us?”
Chapter 40
Maynard stood beside the open doorway of the abandoned barn. The fact that it was abandoned had made it the ideal hiding place, no door to break through, and no farmer to drop by unannounced. Unfortunately, the fact that it was abandoned also made it, cold, uncomfortable, and dirty. Cobwebs filled the rafters, dangling down the supporting posts. No hay left to soften his bed, no livestock to warm the night air.
When he’d approached the village, the sun had not quite set. He’d stayed out of sight behind a copse of trees. The villagers had returned to their homes before the sun was gone, some coming from the two large buildings, and some obviously returning from farms or the smithy. No one was staying at the inn. He couldn’t blame them. The tannery was not in sight of the village, but its reek made his throat burn.
When the streets were empty and the shutters closed, he crept along to the end of the village street, catching sight of the barn just as he decided that he would risk getting a little lost by continuing in the dark. Rest, even in this unwelcoming place would let him move faster at dawn. The first elven village was supposed to be a day’s walk due east. They would know what the stone was about. If they didn’t he would tell them and then they would want it enough to pay well for it.
When his eyes adjusted, he explored the barn. The open area led to a set of facing stalls, too small for horses. There was a faint odor of goat. Behind that, there was a small room, a possibility of privacy, but it could turn into a trap if someone came looking. Other than that, there was the door to the paddock, which was jammed shut.
