by Jo Fontana
"If you think of anything else, he knows where to find me," she told him, gesturing in Duke’s direction.
Duke appeared from the kitchen carrying a huge basket full of eggs. "Half of them are raw and the other half are boiled. This should hold you for a while unless you run out of food.”
"How much?" Reyden asked.
“Just create the lights for the seamstress for much less than you charged me and we'll call it even.”
"Sure. How many lights could she need?"
“Three in the back where she sews and two in the front. If she keeps trying to sew in the dark, she'll go blind,” Duke replied grimly.
"What can she afford?"
“She will tell you she only needs three and she will use one in the back. She would prefer people to see the dresses that are on display in the front of the store.”
“Charge her for three then?”
“Charge her less, but somehow manage to put the two extra in the back.”
“It’ll be done,” Reyden promised.
"I know. Thanks and good luck.” Duke extended his hand to Reyden again.
Reyden shook his hand. “Appreciate the eggs.”
Reyden walked out of the inn with Illithor and Emory in tow. They led him to the main stables where their horses were and Emory repeated the importance of them leaving immediately. It was then that Reyden realized he had a problem and needed time to figure out transportation. He stalled by insisting that he see the seamstress first.
“Don’t take all day. We’ll get supplies while you do that,” Emory told him.
“I’ll meet you back here when I’m done,” Reyden said as he turned to walk away. He stopped when he saw Amanda holding the reins to a sturdy-looking grey horse.
“What is it now?” He snapped, thinking Amanda was going to make a nuisance of herself and demand to join them.
"This horse belonged to Rafe, so he’s a bit beat up. Rafe stole a faster horse and left him behind.”
“What do you want me to do about it?” he asked, still not fully comprehending the significance of her bringing the horse.
“I guess it's only fair, and you’ll need faster transport than your feet," Amanda said as she glanced at his well-worn shoes.
Reyden frowned and took the reins of the horse.
"What's it called?”
"Horse. Rafe has never been very creative."
Reyden seemed to contemplate the horse a moment. “No, this horse looks like Bubbles.”
The horse snorted, seeming to agree with his new name.
Amanda petted the horse. "Bubbles is a great name. Goodbye Bubbles. Keep your new friend safe, okay?"
“I’ll meet the rest of you here in about an hour,” Reyden called to the others after he casually handed the reins to Emory and headed in the direction of the dressmaker’s shop.
Reyden’s estimation of the town improved in the daylight. He saw potential, if the authorities could find a way to control the criminal element. He realized that he went through the seediest part of the large town the night before and cursed himself for his stupidity. He paused when he found the shop, which was tiny and unassuming; Reyden might have passed right by it if he wasn’t specifically looking for it. The sign in the window read Measures and Cuts. The open sign hung underneath that.
Reyden walked in and looked for the proprietor. He saw a pretty, middle-aged woman standing in front of a dressers dummy pinning a sleeve to the shoulder of a man’s jacket.
She glanced up when she heard him enter and smiled. "Welcome to Measures and Cuts. How may I help you?"
He hesitated for a minute. “The barkeep at The Warty Frog mentioned you needed lights.”
She nodded. “He's right. I've been putting it off for a while because, well you know, magic light is just so expensive. But my Aunt can barely see to sew now, and if I keep sewing in the dark, I’ll start losing my sight as well.”
“How many did you need?”
“One for the back room and two for out here.”
“How much can you afford?”
"One for the back room and two for out here,” she repeated and then she grimaced. “With my aunt’s illness, money’s been tight; not that it's your problem."
“How many lights do you really need? We may be able to work something out,” Reyden muttered in a non-committal tone.
"You don't think two lights would sufficiently light this area?"
“I’m talking about the sewing area. I need to see it.”
"Follow me," she said and led him behind the counter and through a curtain.
The room he entered was almost as large as the showroom, but it was quite dim. Bolts of fabric piled on shelves covered an entire wall. Across from that was a long table littered with the usual sewing paraphernalia. Needles and thread spilled out of boxes and a rogue thimble lay on the ground by the leg of one of the two chairs placed on the other side of the table. There were cobwebs in the corner of the racks and a faint odor of must clung to the air in the room. A dressmaker’s dummy sat in the opposite corner draped with cloth. The room had no windows, so Reyden knew that one magic light would definitely not be enough to stave off the shadows from the racks and the lack of natural lighting.
"As you can see, one light in addition to our candles should light this place sufficiently. If you need anything, I’ll be out front.”
Reyden made up his mind and didn't even broach the subject of additional lights with the seamstress. He took out an egg. “I'll start back here,” he said before she left.
Reyden created three lights in the back sewing room. He thought it would be enough to pay for all the eggs Duke gave him. Reyden returned to the front of the store and completed the display lights out in front.
“These lights are enchanted to point at the displays. If you move the display, the light will adjust automatically. I didn’t charge extra. I’m charging you two dumars.”
The seamstress looked surprised. "Two? Are you sure? I was under the impression the going rate was a dumar a light?" she asked hesitantly.
“I’m sure, and you have light in the backroom. I promised Duke.”
She smiled at the mention of the barkeep. "He's always been so nice to us; he brings meals to my aunt every evening. All right, two dumars it is. I wish there were something else.” She snapped her fingers and then said, “Wait. I have it."
She went to a shelf behind the counter and plucked off a pair of black gloves. "Try these on."
"Two dumars are enough," Reyden stated grumpily.
She thrust the gloves into his hand. "Just humor me. I want to see how they fit."
He grumbled but put them on. The gloves were black and a very pliable, soft leather, though he noticed when he put them on his hands that they were very warm.
"They’re winter gloves, believe it or not. I was playing with mixing materials to make something warm but not so bulky."
Reyden was pleased despite himself, as the gloves fit him perfectly.
"These are very good gloves."
"You must take them. They look as if they were made for your hands.”
"If you’re sure...” He reluctantly took the gloves.
"I'm sure. Perhaps, one day, after you've made your fortune, you will remember this shop."
"I’ll remember."
"Goodbye!" she called after him. “And thank you again.”
When Reyden stepped out of the shop, he saw the other two men were already waiting outside, which annoyed him.
“What happened to meeting at the stables?” he snarled.
The other two men shrugged and he shook his head. Reyden would have to find a way to get these two to listen. Their presence distracted him so much that he found it difficult to mount the horse. He clumsily clambered onto Bubbles, almost falling in the process.
“Let's go, I want my egg sooner rather than later."
"I can definitely understand why," answered Illithor.
Reyden followed behind Illithor so the others wouldn’t notic
e the trouble he was having leading the horse.
“I would like to be in the forest before nightfall. What say you Postulate?” Reyden called.
"I agree. Then we can set up camp and wait for daylight.”
“Lead on.”
Even though it was mid-spring and they still had some daylight left, the road out of the town was deserted.
"I'm glad there hasn't been a lot of rain, it's making the journey easier,” Illithor noted.
"Don't tempt fate, elf," Reyden grumbled gruffly. He didn’t need any more problems riding the horse than he already had and hoped the mild-mannered annoyance didn’t just jinx them.
CHAPTER TWO
Reyden estimated that they rode for about a half an hour before they glimpsed the outskirts of Greyhedge Grove. The trees at the edge were young and sparse but the undergrowth became denser and the trees older the farther east one went. The longer they traveled, Reyden realized the others were becoming conscious of the fact that he wasn’t a very good rider despite the steadiness of his horse. Reyden noticed Emory’s increased concern after he made him stop so he could tighten the strap on Bubbles’ saddle. But even afterwards, Reyden was struggling to keep up.
While they were navigating the trail further into the grove, Bubbles stumbled over a tree root and pitched Reyden out of the saddle. Reyden landed flat on his back. He lay on the ground trying to catch his breath until the other men rushed over to help him. As soon as Reyden became aware of this, he quickly stood up with a grunt and brushed the dirt from his cloak. Reyden waived off their concern and gingerly walked over to Bubbles to see how the horse was. As the horse took a step towards him, Reyden noticed the limp and swore loudly. Reyden muttered that the elf hadn’t jinxed them with rain as he feared; he had jinxed the animal with an injury instead.
"This is wonderful,” he said sarcastically.
Illithor stated the obvious as he bent down to look at Bubbles’ leg. "We’re going to have to stop for the time being.”
"You think?” Reyden snapped.
Illithor glared at Reyden. “I don't think it's too bad though, but he needs to rest it for the night at the very least. I can wrap something around it to relieve the swelling.”
"Maybe we can trade that horse in for a younger one when we get to the next town. He may not make the entire journey,” Emory suggested.
"It may be just a minor thing,” Illithor disagreed. “Let's see how the injury looks in the morning. Somehow I don’t think Reyden wishes to trade him."
Reyden stared at the elf with a look of open displeasure. It made him uncomfortable that Illithor had the ability to read him so easily. He wished the nosey elf didn’t have such a good reason to travel with them. If only he could think of a way to get rid of him.
"Unless I'm wrong about that, but you don't seem like the type that gives up on what you consider yours,” Illithor added quickly after noting Reyden’s displeasure.
"It depends on what we’re talking about," Reyden replied icily.
Illithor looked at Reyden with concern. "I can't imagine what I just said to anger you,” he muttered and began wrapping the horse’s leg after making a mixture of mud, willow bark, and boneset.
Reyden stood there silently and watched him for a minute. He paused a moment longer assessing how he could take control of the situation and began walking around the perimeter of the area before declaring, “This spot should be fine for camp.”
Emory shook his head and wandered off. Reyden was still thinking of ways to lose the elf, but had come up with nothing very plausible by the time Emory returned carrying an armful of wood.
“I hear a stream, maybe I can catch some fish," Emory said.
Reyden had wondered how well they’d fare outside of the cities. He was thankful that at least one of them could hunt. He didn’t want to think about what could have happened if at least one of them didn’t have that skill.
"You do that Postulate. Someone as massive as you probably eats as much as a giant turtle; it would take all of our rations just to feed you one meal.”
Emory made a rude gesture towards Reyden as he strolled off towards the stream.
Reyden cackled as he sat down and opened one of his pouches. He took a liniment out of it and attempted to apply it to his back. Illithor, having finished tending the horse, noticed Reyden struggling. "Reyden, I can help you."
Reyden wondered about the elf’s motivation. He almost told the elf to shove off, but thought better of it and instead, diplomatically said, “No need. I’m finished.”
To his relief, Illithor didn’t prod or question him.
"I'm going to find something to go with the fish. I’m sure that I can dig up some edible vegetation around here," Illithor told Reyden as he retrieved a small basket from his horse's saddle.
“I have some spices in my pouch if we need them,” Reyden offered.
Reyden sat and watched the horses while the others were gone. He did not intend to do anything that night due to the ache in his back. He resolved to take care of any injuries while the others were preoccupied. Reyden dozed for a while until Illithor returned carrying a fistful of wild carrots and a basket full of berries. He eyed the oddly shaped berries with curiosity.
“Is that elf food?” Reyden asked mockingly.
"They’re yellow berries. They look odd, but they taste like melon. When they turn sunflower yellow, they’re the sweetest. And to answer your question, yes, it’s elf food, human food, and fairy food. I believe turtles like them too—basically anyone who eats fruit.”
“Trying to take the fun out of my poking at you and Emory?”
Illithor smiled and shook his head. "Not at all. I will sound no different when I comment on the human passion for meat.”
“Don't knock meat. It keeps you full longer than fruit.”
“And don’t knock fruit, it keeps you regular,” Illithor answered with a goofy grin.
“You’ll regret me being regular.”
"I don't know about that. I have a feeling I will regret you being constipated and even more cranky," Illithor stated dramatically.
“That’s a tough one. Which is worse, gas or constipation? I guess only time will tell.”
Illithor chuckled. Emory, who had returned towards the end of their conversation, sighed. “We have to put up with flatulence too?”
"Yes," they replied with mirth.
“Consarn it,” Emory grumbled lightheartedly as he lit a small fire. Then he put a pot filled with water over it, and deboned the fish while he waited for the water to boil. Illithor peeled the carrots and threw them into the pot carefully.
Illithor prodded Reyden. “Did you mention something about herbs?”
Reyden tossed a handful of herbs into the pot. After a few minutes, the stew started to smell edible. As the aroma grew stronger, Reyden heard what sounded like someone’s stomach growling. He jumped up and cast a spell that mimicked a small sun and an egg disintegrated in his hand. Its light shone down from the treetops, which chased away all shadows around the perimeter of the campsite.
"Hey! Turn down the light!” someone called out. “You can blind a person that way you know!"
“Who are you and why are you spying on us?” Reyden yelled angrily.
"The name’s Deverick Siward. Technically I wasn't spying—I was trying to sleep; I figured the fire would keep away some of the bugs."
“And you just conveniently forgot to let us know you were here? A likely story!” Reyden accused.
Deverick answered, "If I had, then I might have to make conversation with you. I’m much better at talking to animals than people; apparently my stomach had other ideas.”
“Wait a minute,” Illithor interrupted. “Deverick?”
Deverick hopped down from his perch but made sure not to land too close to Reyden. Illithor looked amused and Emory, evidently prepared to feed an additional person, just continued tending the stew.
“Hi Illithor,” the dark-haired man greeted the elf as he approached th
em.
Illithor scolded Deverick, "Next time let us know you’re around. It's rude to do otherwise."
“Especially if you’re expecting food,” Reyden piped up tartly.
“I didn’t know it was you, Illithor.”
Deverick pulled out a nice sized loaf of fresh-smelling bread and turned to Reyden.
"Besides, I can supply the bread, see?"
Emory sighed with resignation as he stirred the stew. “I should’ve taken it as an omen when I caught four fish.”
“Does that mean I get to eat?” Deverick asked hopefully.
“You know this mooch?” Reyden asked Illithor who nodded.
"Mooch? Never! I always earn my way,” Deverick declared and was about to say more until he noticed Reyden’s horse. Deverick walked cautiously towards Bubbles. Reyden quickly glanced at the other two men who just shrugged.
“What happened here?”
“Bubbles tripped,” Reyden stated curtly.
“Whose bandaging work is this?” Deverick asked.
“Mine,” Illithor answered.
“I should’ve known,” Deverick said. “The only thing you’re missing is a little bit of ginger root in the mixture.” Deverick took out a handful of the crushed herb from his pouch, and then smoothed it onto the mud already under the wrap. As he re-wrapped the bandage, he explained, "There, he’ll be fine by morning. He just twisted it a little, but once the swelling is gone he'll be as good as new."
“He told you all that?” Reyden asked with disbelief.
"Well not in those exact words, but pretty much yes. Did I mention that I'm a forester?"
“No.” Reyden hoped his curt response would effectively mask his embarrassment over his inability to properly take care of the horse.
“Oh, well, I am. You don’t have a dislike to my vocation, do you?” Deverick asked, clearly puzzled by Reyden’s reaction.
“No.”
“Good. Is it time to eat?” Deverick questioned the Postulate.
“In about another twenty minutes,” Emory promised them.
As soon as Deverick heard that, his stomach growled loudly again. "Sorry about that. My parents always said they never had a problem getting me to eat."
