by B. T. Narro
I walked forward knowing I might be seeing something I’d regret. I firmly believe there’s a part of our minds that’s reserved for the most gruesome sights. If the rest of our memories compile a sea, then it’s a lagoon—black and muddy—where these images are stored. I could feel the hills parting that normally secluded it from the rest of my mind. My body warned me not to go farther, but my curiosity was too strong.
Shara slid her arm around mine and looked down.
I told her, “You don’t need to come with me.”
She gave no reply.
No matter. I found some comfort in the distraction of her touch as I noticed the smell of blood, a hot and metallic odor. Yesterday, this clearing was filled with houses, but now rubble covered the ground. As I looked closer, though, I realized it wasn’t all burned wood. There were blackened bodies so disfigured that I didn’t recognize what I was looking at until I found one with all its limbs. Two male soldiers were carrying it…him…her? I couldn’t tell. One soldier had the legs, the other the arms. They set the heap of charred flesh and bones on the back of a carriage, where it blended into a much larger heap, instantly indistinguishable.
Townspeople cried as they stood near the edge of this clearing. Most had their head buried into another’s shoulder as they wept. Then I saw a child holding his father’s hand as both looked out at the grotesque scene with an empty stare.
Another pair of soldiers carried a body past me. This one used to be a man, his shoulders and arms still covered by the black uniform. When they put him on a different carriage, I realized they were separating the dead, soldiers from townspeople.
I looked back to the first carriage, telling myself it would be the last time I glanced at it, readying the hills around my lagoon to close. It was a massive carriage, and the heap of bodies was stacked to where my waist would be if I were standing on the vehicle. I had no idea so many townspeople had been killed. I assumed the carriage would go to the graveyard up north. What I didn’t know was what their tombstones would read.
Probably a woman, maybe a mother or a sister. Probably kind. Probably died innocently.
No, those who buried these poor people would stick with what they knew.
A victim of the battle of Lanhine: Day 20 of the 4th month of the year 1527.
Curse King Marteph. May King Quince win the war swiftly.
A soldier was trying to pull a body from beneath a fallen wall. As a second soldier attempted to lift the wall, the first one tugged on a lifeless leg. Grunting, they seemed to be making progress.
Then the one tugging fell backward. I nearly vomited when I saw he’d managed to pull out the leg from beneath the wall while the rest of the body hadn’t come with it. Turning away, I decided I’d seen enough.
Shara was right. War was beginning. No town in Sumar was safe. She finally looked up and released my arm as we walked away.
“Hungry?” she teased.
“No.”
“Fourteen miles a day.”
“What?”
“That’s what I was going to say before you interrupted me. To get to Glaine in fifteen days, we have to travel at least fourteen miles each day.” She gazed at me while I tried to figure out how to tell her we wouldn’t be going there together. “Because two hundred and ten divided by fifteen is fourteen. But we should assume it’s actually two hundred and thirty miles to Glaine just to be safe if the map is wrong. And we also don’t want to get there on the last day, so two hundred and thirty by fourteen instead of fifteen would be…” She tapped her chin and hummed a tune. “About sixteen and a half miles a day.”
I considered myself to be good at math, using it nearly every day in my work. But at the speed with which she came to those answers, and without quill or scroll, it seemed impossible for her to be correct. No matter. I would figure out the right answer later.
“Shara, why do you want to come with me?”
She folded her arms and lowered her voice in a mocking imitation of me. “Neeko, umm…because we’re both going there anyway, so we might as well go together?”
“You don’t know me,” I argued. “What if I’m a murderer or a rapist?” The words left a sour taste in my mouth, but they had to be said.
“Are you?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“That’s all it takes to convince you?” I was worried for her if that was the case.
“Even if you are, I can handle myself just fine.”
She was either confident or dimwitted. I figured it was a combination of both. But then again, she seemed to know so much about the land, and what if her numbers were actually right? I figured it was worth the time for me to at least check to see whether her first answer was correct. Fifteen multiplied by fourteen is easy. Fifteen by ten is one hundred and fifty. Now four by fifteen is—
“So?” she interrupted.
“One moment.” Four by fifteen is—
“What are you so worried about?” she interrupted again. “I’m the woman in this situation. I’m the one who should be scared, not you.”
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“Then what is it?” She waited a moment, then continued before I could figure out how to answer. “I know Sumar well. I know what route to take through Rhalon. You won’t make it without a guide.”
“I don’t trust you,” I blurted. “I don’t understand why you’re so intent on going with me.”
“You must never have traveled before. One person is a target for scoundrels. They’ll laugh at you for traveling alone as they take your money. If you don’t want to go with me, I’ll find someone else, but I’d rather not go through the trouble. You seem close to my age, and you seem…” She grumbled as if she didn’t want to say it. “Gallant, at least more so than most men I’ve met.” She looked away, embarrassed. “Maybe I’m wrong.”
I looked at her pointedly. “How much money do you have?”
“You go first.”
“About fifty silver,” I lied. Men had been killed for less than what I really had. Women, too, I realized as I thought of my mother. Half of me wanted Eizle’s brother to be in Cessri, but my other half knew if I ran into him, chances were good I wouldn’t make it to Glaine. I’d get too distracted devising a plan for revenge.
“I have twenty,” she said. I figured she really had twice that. “Will you get food and water for our trip?” she asked, then continued before I could answer. “I’ll take care of everything else. Meet back here as soon as you’re done.”
She bundled the collar of my shirt in her fist. “Are you coming back here, or are you leaving without me? Just tell me now instead of making me wonder. I can’t stand not knowing if I’m about to be abandoned.”
This was my chance to leave her for good and travel alone as I’d intended. I could use as much py energy as I wanted without worry. But her warnings about the land and robbers didn’t seem completely absurd.
“I’ll meet you back here,” I said, surprising myself.
She grinned and walked off. As I watched her attempt to wipe the dirt from her hands and face, I realized I had no idea what she meant by taking care of everything else. Besides food and water, what else did we need? Was she buying a tent or a mirror? Who knew with this woman? She could come back with two pairs of garish dancing shoes and claim they were the only way over Talmor Desert, and I wouldn’t be surprised. I’d seen the Talmor Desert on her map with a skull next to it, making it hard to forget.
It was an exhausting effort to get food and water. First I had to purchase bags, a smaller one for food and a larger one for everything else I’d be carrying. I didn’t get a chance to take one out of my house during the fire like Shara had. This made me painfully aware that all the clothes I owned were on my body.
After bags, I haggled with two different merchants until I felt I had enough bread, water, and jerky for three days. Altogether, the food and the bags cost me three ruffs and six pits. I needed to take the time to count my coins, but I figured I’
d do it while Shara slept. If she was at all normal, she’d sleep twice as long as me. Gods, I hope she won’t try to rob me. I didn’t want to hurt her, but I wouldn’t let a thief get away without punishment if I could help it.
When I rejoined Shara, she wore a silly grin like she had a surprise for me. “Did you get food?”
I lifted the sack.
“Good. How much do I owe you for half?”
“Don’t worry about the bags. I’ll keep them. The food was two ruffs and one pit. But you could just give me one ruff.”
Shara pulled her purse from her pocket, plucked out a silver coin, and placed it in my hand. She tilted forward onto the balls of her feet, then back to her heels. “I got a gift for you.” Falling into a squat so quickly that her knees bounced, she reached into her bag and pulled out a pair of brown shoes. They were terribly mediocre, yet she sang a quick tune of celebration. “Daaaa! And they were only two ruffs like the food! Look at the soles. You can walk for hundreds of miles in these.”
It felt like she was presenting me with a gold-coated turd. This had to be a joke.
“I don’t get it. I already have shoes.”
All cheer fell from her face. “Oh, you already bought another pair?”
“No, I mean I already have shoes on.” I pointed down at them just in case she really hadn’t noticed and was completely mad, which I genuinely was starting to wonder.
“You need two pairs of shoes for traveling. What if something happens to your first pair and we’re miles from any town with a shoemaker?”
“What could happen?”
“Anything!” She shoved the shoes toward me. “Try them on. I have a good eye for these things. They should fit you nicely.”
I didn’t want to try them on, but I was too tired to argue with her. If they were a gift, fine. She squatted down when they were on my feet and pressed her thumb sideways on top, barely grazing my toe.
“Perfect!” she exclaimed, rising wearily to her feet. She held her back with both hands and let out a sigh. “I’m exhausted already.” Then she held out her open hand. “Two ruffs, pleeeeeeease.”
“For what? Wait…you’re asking me to pay for these?”
“Yes.”
“You said they were a gift.”
“They are.”
I swallowed a gulp of anger that threatened to come out as a shout. “Do you know what a gift means?”
She kept her hand open. “Something useful or helpful bestowed without any effort of the recipient.”
She wasn’t wrong, but she’d left out something important. “It’s also something the recipient doesn’t pay for.”
“We pay for gifts all the time.”
“How’s that?” I challenged.
She finally retracted her hand so she could fold her arms. “If I didn’t ask you for money, wouldn’t you feel indebted? Wouldn’t you think of some way to repay me, maybe with a favor or a gift of your own? Asking for money just makes it easier for you.”
“Perhaps I would feel indebted, perhaps not. I haven’t gotten enough gifts to know.”
Her face flushed as she looked at the dirt between us. “Is Shara the first woman to give you a gift?”
“It’s not a gift!” I had no idea why she was using her own name like that, but I was too annoyed and tired to care. I knelt down and quickly untied the shoes. It was awkwardly silent as I fumbled with the laces and tried to think of something to say. Nothing came to mind.
I tried to hand them to her, but of course she wouldn’t take them.
“They’re too big for me,” she said.
“I don’t need another pair of shoes,” I told her. “Two ruffs is a good deal, but a good deal is often just a waste of money that’s harder to pass up.”
She pushed out her hand. “You’re going to need them, so just keep them. Don’t worry about the money.”
Gods, she was right. I was indebted to her the moment she purchased the shoes for me. I could either pay her now or find some way to repay her later. I reached for my coin purse.
She pushed out her hands. “Don’t try to fairith me!”
“Don’t try to what?”
“Fairith. It’s the art of civility; at least that’s what people in Antilith call it. I think calling it an art is an insult to any artist. It’s an idiotic game of who can be more polite. They take it so seriously in Antilith that you could be hung if you fairith poorly. I despise it, so let’s not discuss it right now. If I tell you to keep the shoes, then keep the shoes. Got it?”
She tells me all this after just reaching for my money? Shara certainly was a talker. I regretted not paying her the moment she offered. I would’ve tried to give her the ruffs once more, but she seemed to despise politeness battles even more than I did.
“All right,” I said, stashing the shoes in my bag. “What else did you get for us?”
“Everything we’re going to need except clothes for you. I figured you’d want to purchase your own undergarments.”
“You figured correctly.”
“I was thinking you could do that while I dig up something buried in the graveyard.”
That made me pause.
She flashed a teasing smile. “It’s a surprise.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
If there was one thing about me that hadn’t improved with age, it was my inability to squelch my curiosity. It felt like a hunger at times. What would’ve happened if I’d never left my mother in Cessri? What would I be doing if Wylen hadn’t taught me carpentry? Would Jon still be alive if I’d tried to wrestle the knife from his hands? Would I? I wasn’t about to let my mind torment me with what Shara could be doing in the graveyard.
I decided to follow her, staying back far enough so that there were always five or so people between us. I needed to buy new clothes—what I implied I’d be doing—but that could wait until I reached Cessri.
Lanhine’s graveyard was just outside the city to the north. It became more difficult to follow Shara without being seen when there were no more houses, but there was a unit of soldiers at least twenty large walking beside the carriage loaded down with bodies. I stayed behind them, watching Shara toward the front, where it looked like she was conversing with a female soldier.
Shara separated from them as they passed through the gates of the graveyard. The soldiers and their carriage followed the path north. Shara hooked to the west, walking right over graves without a care.
Now, I wasn’t superstitious. For instance, I didn’t believe, as some did, that the citizens of Cessri were angering the god of life by burying their dead within the confines of their city. However, I still cringed when I saw Shara’s lack of respect. There were paths wide enough for two people to walk abreast between the graves, yet she traveled straight across, heading toward the back of the cemetery.
I followed her from well outside the wall, hiding behind the few trees left around the graveyard just in case she looked over her shoulder. Eventually, she went too far from the wall, and I no longer could see her clearly. I hurried around to the back of the graveyard, my head throbbing as I sprinted, reminding me I hadn’t slept the night before.
Shara squatted right in the middle of a grave, her back to me. To my amazement, she started to dig with her bare hands. My first thought was to leave this madwoman behind. I figured I should walk to Cessri right then and try to forget I ever met her. But I gave her a chance by taking the time to think what else she could be doing besides digging up a body.
Perhaps it was the grave of a relative buried with an expensive trinket. Or maybe there was something of sentimental value beneath the earth, something she didn’t want to leave behind. I tried to imagine what it could be…what she would leave underground until now rather than take from the body when the person died.
I came up with nothing as Shara dug frantically. At least she was sane enough to realize that if a soldier saw her, she would be arrested.
I couldn’t get myself to leave. My gut not only told me to stay but to climb
the wall and make sure I saw whatever it was she uncovered before she hid it away. I’d learned to trust my gut more since my mother died, so I hoisted my tired body over the wall and crept up behind her.
By the time I drew close, she’d dug quite the hole. She was on her knees with her rear high in the air. Leaning in as she dug, her shirt came up, exposing the small of her back. I noticed something about her then that I never thought to look for before. A belt. And latched onto the back of her belt was a cylindrical sheath that could only be for one thing.
A wand. Damn.
I moved closer to find the handle of the weapon peeking out. It was light blue like the sky on a clear day. Ridiculous. Who paints a wand? It was like coloring the hilt of a dagger. The wand was a weapon, not an accessory like a bracelet or necklace.
She heard me behind her and glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, it’s just you. That was fast.” She pulled her shirt down over her belt and continued to dig. “How did you buy clothes so quickly?” Her voice was muffled as it came up from inside the hole.
“I didn’t. I decided I’ll get them in Cessri.”
“You don’t care about wearing the same clothes for days?” She didn’t wait for me to answer. “Help me, will you?”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m looking for something.”
I checked around for possibly the tenth time to make sure no one could see us, then came to Shara’s side. I felt panic rush through me, hot as boiling water. She’d unearthed enough soil to reveal a skeletal arm. It was gray and dusty, the bones old and brittle.
“My gods,” I whispered, stepping away.
Shara scoffed. “I wouldn’t have guessed you believe in zuji.”
“I don’t. But I’d never exhume a body.”
“Why not?”
“Because!” I shook my head, incredulous…not that she could see. She was busy brushing her hand around the skeleton, looking for something. “If you don’t care about the bad zuji, you have to at least realize it’s disrespectful.”
