by C. J. Archer
"You and Sergeant Max are short with dark hair," I said to Quentin. "So you must be originally from Freedland."
Quentin turned huge eyes to me. "You've been there?" he whispered. "You've been to Freedland?"
"No. My father has, and he told me stories of all the kingdoms and the republic. He traveled all over The Fist before marrying my mother and settling here in Mull. But everyone knows the sand people of Freedland are short with dark hair. You don't need to go there to know."
"Right," Quentin said. "Of course."
"Captain Hammer is different," I said, glancing at his broad back. "He's tall, like those of us native to Glancia, but he's dark like you. Glancia folk are naturally fair."
"And pretty." Quentin blushed. "Real pretty."
I smiled. "I suspect the captain doesn't like to be called pretty."
Hammer shifted his stance again. "The captain doesn't like people talking about him behind his back." He glanced over his shoulder and those eyes, so blue against his tanned skin, drilled into me. "Are you done, Doctor?"
It was a little embarrassing to be called the title I hadn't earned officially through the college—and never would. Women weren't allowed to study doctoring. Midwifery and how to make medicines, yes, but not surgery or other medical disciplines. The college system was archaic; not only for entry into the college of surgery, but into all the colleges. The rules ought to be changed, but I couldn't foresee women being allowed in any time soon. None of that was a secret. It was common knowledge. Why did these men not know it?
I finished stitching and tied the end of the thread. I asked Quentin to cut off the excess and he looked more than pleased to contribute. After removing the shirt from around Max’s arm, I told the sergeant he could sit up.
He answered me with a soft snore.
"How will we get him back to the palace?" Quentin asked.
Captain Hammer tapped Max's cheek. "Wake up."
Max cracked open an eye. "The doctor's not finished." He closed his eye again.
"She is." The captain pulled Max into a sitting position. "Come on. We must go." He scanned the forest again. Did he think the archer was still there, watching?
I handed the doublet to Max. He slung it around his injured side but needed help with the other. The captain and I managed to arrange it equally on both shoulders before assisting him to stand.
Max groaned but slumped against Hammer. The captain looped his arm around Max and guided him to the horse.
Quentin gathered the horse's reins. "You can do it, Max. Upsy daisy."
The sergeant pushed off from Hammer. "I'm not a child," he growled.
He tried to mount alone but couldn't. The captain wordlessly stepped in and helped. He managed to get Max on the horse easily, even though the broad-set man must be heavy. From what I'd witnessed, Max was a barrel of solid muscle.
"Where's your horse?" Quentin asked me as he mounted.
"I don't have a horse," I said. "I walked."
"It's a long way back to Mull," the captain said. He remained standing, his hand resting lightly on his horse's neck. "What were you doing up here?"
"Passing through."
"It's a hill. No one climbs a hill if they're just passing through."
"She was looking at the view," Quentin said. "There's a nice one of the palace from over there." He pointed to the edge of the clearing where the hill dropped away too steeply for trees to grow.
The captain walked to the edge and studied the palace in the distance. He stayed there for some time, his back to us. Only the ends of his hair fluttered in the light breeze, but otherwise he didn't move. The silence stretched.
Quentin cleared his throat. "Captain? Max is falling asleep again."
The captain turned away from the view and my breath caught in my throat. He had the same haunted look in his eyes as the mad maidservant and the guards who'd collected her that day.
"Are you all right?" I asked in a rush of breath.
He halted and blinked rapidly at me. "We'll take you back to the village."
"It's all right," I said. "I can walk. I had a patient to visit at the base of the hill and decided to come up and have a look at the palace. It's such a pleasant day and the sun is shining. The palace is so pretty in the sunshine with all those glass windows sparkling like gems. Is it made of gold? It looks like gold from up here, but perhaps its something else. I imagine gold is too expensive to use as a building material." I bit my tongue to stop my rambling.
"We'll take you home," the captain said again. "You can't stay here alone."
"Why not?"
He hesitated before saying, "You saw the man we were chasing?"
"Only a little. Just his beard really."
"He might think you saw more. That's why he doubled back."
My heart skipped a beat. "You think he was shooting at me?"
"It's possible."
"Then why not try again after missing?"
"Perhaps he couldn't get a clear second shot before I returned."
"She hid in the bushes," Quentin told his captain.
I swallowed hard. Someone had tried to…to kill me?
The captain touched my elbow. "Doctor? Are you all right?"
"I… Yes. I'm fine."
"It's doubtful he'll come back for you. If you didn't recognize him then he doesn't know you either, or where to find you. If he's clever, he'll be far away by now. Even so, I'd prefer it if you allowed us to escort you home."
Quentin shifted back on the saddle and patted the front. "Climb on."
"She'll ride with me," Hammer said.
Quentin sighed. "Don't you have enough?"
"You're a terrible rider. If Doctor Cully wants to get home safely, she rides with me."
"I fell off once."
"Once today," Max piped up from where he sat slumped in his saddle.
"A ride back to the village is the least we can do," the captain said to me. "I'll send payment for your service. I have no coin on me. We left in a hurry."
I gathered up both my packs and helped myself onto the saddle, sitting aside rather than astride as I'd seen Lady Deerhorn do. The captain mounted behind me in one fluid movement. I felt small and delicate next to him. He smelled of horse and leather, and his hard thigh bumped against mine. Like Max, I suspected he was all muscle too.
We headed slowly through the forest, back down the hill. Little light reached through the canopy, making it feel like twilight, despite being just after noon. The air felt damper too, denser, as if rain wasn't far away. If I hadn't been out in the bright sunshine moments before, I would have thought the weather entirely different.
The captain remained alert and silent as we rode. His reassurance that the hooded archer wasn't a local and would be far away by now offered little comfort. I held my packs close to my chest and watched the forest too. I'd wager the archer was a burglar or poacher who thought to try his luck on palace grounds.
Or perhaps he was an escaped servant who needed to be retrieved.
Chapter 2
We emerged from the forest at the base of Lookout Hill and rode into the village. The familiar salty scent of the sea hit me along with an undertone of gutted fish thanks to the northerly breeze. We passed the leather seller's hut, where his wife convalesced with their third born, and the clutch of other buildings built of the same warm yellow stone.
"You said your father traveled." The captain had been quiet for so long that his voice startled me. It wasn't so much the sound of it, but the way it rumbled through my body. He sat very close. "Where has he traveled to?"
"Everywhere on The Fist Peninsula," I said. "Freedland, Dreen, Vytill of course, and even into The Margin and across the sea to Zemaya. Not beyond Widowmaker Peaks, though."
"How long was he gone?"
"Years. He studied in Logios, and after graduation, he took his new education and traveled. He says he learned more in Zemaya than he ever learned in college, particularly about medicines and poisons."
"W
hat do you know about the other nations on The Fist Peninsula?" the captain asked.
What a strange question. I turned more fully to see him properly. At such close proximity, he filled my view. "You don't have Zemayan coloring, yet you can't be from the Margin, either."
Those blue eyes lowered to mine. "Why not?"
"Because you're too sophisticated. Margin folk are simple tribespeople. You're clearly not a barbarian."
Quentin nodded sagely, proving he was listening. He did not look around, however, preferring to concentrate on the road ahead. His white-knuckled grip on the reins and stiff back were at odds with the other two, who both sat comfortably in their saddles. Max had straightened a little and seemed more alert. The fresh sea air had woken him up, and the effects of the Mother's Milk were wearing off.
"Tell me more about the Margin," the captain said.
"It's mostly plains and then the foothills of the Peaks." I shrugged. "Nomadic tribes live there. They fight amongst themselves and don't venture into Glancia. There's not much more to tell."
"What about Dreen? The college city of Logios is in Dreen, is it not? What else is it known for? What are the people like?"
We passed the Bramm sisters walking back from the main street, their baskets full. They stepped out of our path then stopped altogether and gawped at us. "Josie?" asked one.
"Good afternoon, " I said.
"What are you doing with those…?"
"Palace guards?" I filled in for her. "I'll explain later."
They glanced at each other then rushed off, their strides long and purposeful. The entire village would know I'd ridden with palace guards by nightfall.
"Dreen is large in area but smaller than Vytill and Glancia in population," I said, answering the captain. "Most of it is sparsely populated farmland. There are two cities—Upway, the capital, and Logios, the college city."
"And Vytill? What are the folk there like?"
I huffed out a laugh. "The most intelligent, beautiful, and wealthy. Just ask them. Did I mention they're arrogant too? According to the king of Vytill, it's the most important nation on The Fist. Not anymore, though. Not since the Rift. Have you heard of the Rift?"
"I have."
That was something, at least. I was beginning to think he was completely ignorant about everything to do with the peninsula.
"Tell me about Glancia," he said. "You've lived in this kingdom your entire life?"
I nodded. "In Mull. That probably makes me quite dull to you."
"Why?"
I waved at Yolanda and her three children, each carrying a package. None waved back. They were too busy staring. "You must be from somewhere very far away," I said to Hammer. "Otherwise you wouldn't be asking me all these questions about the Fist nations. So where are you from?"
"The palace," was all he said. "Glancia is a pleasant country with nice scenery. Is it mostly made up of fishing villages?"
It would seem he wasn't prepared to give too much of himself away to a stranger. I wondered if he was following king's orders or whether it was a personal choice. "It is, except for the capital, Tilting. It's on the River Upway, near the borders of Dreen and Vytill. Apparently being close to our wealthier neighbors makes it more strategic and affords better communication, although I don't think the kings of either Dreen or Vytill cared overmuch about communicating with Glancia until now. We were nothing to them, just a poor dog they had to throw a bone to every now and again to stop us starving over winter. Before the Rift, that is. Everything changed after that. Why did King Leon decide to build his palace near Mull and not Tilting? The capital was good enough for the old king."
"The old king kept to the old ways. The new king wanted to do something new and different."
"The palace certainly is different," I said. "For one thing, it's not a crumbling old relic of a castle."
He smirked. "No, it's not."
I directed the captain to move off Mull's main road with its shops and bustling market that now opened every day instead of twice a week. I knew far too many shopkeepers, and I was already growing tired of the stares and gasps. Soon the sheltered harbor with its two jutting piers were in view. The smell of the sea was strongest here, and the noise was incessant. Dockworkers shouted at one another, sometimes in anger but mostly barking orders. Crane ropes groaned and the machinery whirred as barrels and crates were lifted from boats onto the piers. Carts, drays and passenger vehicles came and went, jostling for space on the concourse. Everywhere foundations for new warehouses and shipping company offices sprang up. The customs building was already two-thirds built, with another level to go on soon. It looked very grand already, commanding the best view over Tovey Harbor.
Large ships anchored in deeper waters at the harbor's mouth while their smaller rowboats navigated Tovey's shallows, waiting for their turn to unload and reload at the piers. Timbers creaked and oars bumped as crews maneuvered through the crowded harbor and vied for the best positions.
The sooner the harbor was dredged and bigger docks built, the better. Perhaps. Mull was bursting at the seams with the influx of trade since the Rift, and I didn't particularly like the way my sleepy village was being swamped. I hated to think what it would be like if it grew to the size of Tilting.
"Mull is changing quickly." When he didn't respond, I added, "Because of the Rift."
"I see," he said blandly.
"I'm sorry, I'm boring you. You must already know this."
He hesitated then said, "I would like to hear about Mull from the perspective of someone who lives here."
"Very well." I indicated the busy harbor. "The Rift cut off The Thumb from the rest of the continent." I waited for a reaction. He gave none so I thought it best to begin at the beginning. "A series of earthquakes, one after the other, tore the headland known as The Thumb from the mainland. Seawater flooded the gap, now known as the Rift. The quake event is also called the Rift, for want of a better word. The Thumb was—and still is, administratively if not physically—part of Vytill. Before the Rift, Port Haven on The Thumb was the eastern most port on The Fist Peninsula, making it a trading hub. It's also on the River Mer so it was doubly strategic. Port Haven is the reason Vytill became the richest and most important kingdom on The Fist. Now that's all changing."
"Because the Rift severed The Thumb."
"Nice pun."
Once again he did not react. Not much of a sense of humor then.
"With The Thumb cut off from the peninsula, Vytill no longer has the easternmost port on The Fist. Glancia does." I stretched out my hand to encompass the activity. "My sleepy fishing village has woken up. The population has already trebled, and market prices have risen quickly. On the one hand, it's good for everyone's business, but on the other…" I sighed. "I liked it the way it was."
I directed the captain into a street to take us away from the harbor. It was quieter but we still passed people I knew. Considering I knew everyone in the village, except for those who'd settled since the Rift, it wasn't surprising.
"Is that why King Leon built his palace nearby?" I asked. "To be closer to Mull and the trading activity?"
"I don't know what's behind his thinking."
"It did seem strange to us that he'd move away from Tilting and its administrative offices. The ministers can't be too happy to travel here."
"They haven't come yet. They arrive next week for the first time."
"Will they stay at the palace? Every spare room in Mull is already taken."
"There are rooms prepared for them at the palace."
"Many, many rooms," Quentin piped up.
Captain Hammer asked me a few more questions about Glancia, mostly about its history and the various lords. I could answer many but not all. Aside from Lord Deerhorn, who lived north east of Mull on an estate that overlooked the village and harbor, the other powerful families of Glancia were a mystery to me. There wouldn't have been enough time to answer questions about them, anyway. We turned into the narrow street where I lived, and I t
old the captain to stop outside my cottage just as old Bessie Tailor emerged. She squinted at me.
"Who's that?" she asked.
"It's just me, Bessie," I said. "Josie. Are you here for your eyes? Could Father help?"
"Josie? Are you on a horse? Who're you with?" She squinted harder.
"Josie?" my father said, peering over Bessie's head. "What in Merdu's name…?" He took in Quentin and Max's crimson and gold uniforms, and my position on the horse in front of the captain. "Get down, Josie! Come away from them!"
"It's all right," I said. "They're palace guards. They—"
"I know what they are."
I hadn't seen him look this furious since I came home late one night after celebrating a friend's betrothal at The Anchor tavern. He'd had good cause then, but his anger didn't make sense this time. I was twenty-four, for Goddess's sake, and hardly a naive girl anymore. The captain and his men may be strangers, but it was broad daylight. Father was overreacting, as usual.
The captain dismounted and assisted me to the ground, his hands on my waist. Our gazes connected but I couldn't read his. Or perhaps I might have if I hadn't been transfixed by his eyes. Their color really was quite beautiful.
"My name is Captain Hammer, sir," he said to my father. "These are my men. You're Doctor Cully?"
My father lifted his chin in a nod. "What are you doing with my daughter?"
"Doctor Cully—Doctor Joselyn Cully, that is—assisted my sergeant after he was shot by an arrow on Lookout Hill."
I groaned silently. I'd have a devil of a time convincing Father there was no cause to worry now. It was difficult to know which was worse—the fact I hadn't come straight home after seeing to the leather seller's wife, the fact that I rode on a horse with a strange man, that he was from the palace, or that his sergeant had been shot by an arrow and called me doctor. I could see my father grappling with the overwhelming number of possibilities too. Thankfully, it rendered him speechless. For now.
It did not have the same effect on Bessie. "Doctor Joselyn?" She chuckled. "Very amusing."
Captain Hammer turned a frosty glare to me.
I sidled off to join the sergeant. He sat well on his horse and looked much better. "I sutured the wound," I told my father. "We were on top of Lookout Hill and he was losing blood. There was no time to bring him down here, and since I had everything I needed…" I stopped as my father's face darkened.
