To the Gap (Daughter of the Wildings #4)

by Kyra Halland

  “I see. Thank you, sir.” The shopkeeper placed the box with the ring in it in a small ivory silk pouch and pulled the drawstring closed.

  As Silas watched the foreign man and pondered his future plans, an idea formed in his mind. “You can make up for it by satisfying my curiosity on a few things.”

  “Why, certainly, Mr. Venning. Talk, as they say, is cheap.”

  “To get here from your country, did you sail to Granadaia or to Amber Bay?”

  “We sailed what you call the western sea, to Amber Bay. I have not yet set foot in this fabled land of Granadaia.”

  “How much was the passage?” Lainie would never go for it. If she didn’t want to go to Amber Bay, sailing across the sea to a foreign land was out of the question. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to ask. He was curious, that was all.

  “It was –” The shopkeeper looked up for a moment as though searching his memory. “The equivalent of twenty-five gildings each, for my passage and my wife’s. Our three children, being small, sailed for only fifty gildings for all three of them. Our goods cost another twenty-five to ship. And, of course, we needed to bring enough money to make our start here in this new land; I acquired a house and this shop for two hundred and forty gildings. And then there was the cost of crossing the grasslands with the trade wagons, which was ninety gildings and a small portion of our trade goods as tribute to the folk of the grasslands.”

  Silas added up the numbers in his head. Even considering the cost of crossing the P’wagimet lands and a trip to Piney Ridge beforehand, it was well within his and Lainie’s means. “I suppose it would be the same going the other way?”

  “You are perhaps thinking of making a voyage?” The shopkeeper’s smile drooped. “I am desolated to tell you this, sir, but, unfortunately, it would cost considerably more. You see, my homeland and the neighboring countries do not encourage immigration. As well, because of the nature and amounts of goods that are being shipped back from this continent, there is less accommodation available for passengers on the ships. I believe passage would cost in the neighborhood of four hundred gildings per person.”

  Silas’s mind nearly went blank at the number. Four hundred gildings was more than he used to earn in bounties in a good year.

  “There would also be the cost for shipping your belongings and your animals,” the shopkeeper went on, “assuming you wished to bring that fine gray beast with you and your dear lady’s animal as well, if she has one. And then there would be your entry permits and residence papers, and the required amount to establish yourself in a home and occupation.”

  As the shopkeeper spoke, he wrote down figures, and Silas wondered exactly what goods were being shipped from the Wildings to the foreign lands that were so valuable and took up so much room in the ships. Raw materials for the scientific inventions that were made in those lands, such guns and clocks and ammunition and so forth, he supposed. Items that were highly valued in the Wildings and no doubt made a tidy fortune for their foreign manufacturers.

  “And even before you set sail,” the shopkeeper went on, “the grasslands must be crossed. If you are not associated with a trading enterprise, that would require the purchase of a wagon and a pair of draft animals to pull it – your riding beasts, fine as they are, would be insufficient to the task – along with a place in the caravan and supplies for the journey. You would also be required to provide fees and gifts to the native people of the grasslands. All of this, I understand, would total approximately four hundred gildings. And once you arrive in Amber Bay, you will have to wait as long as a month, or possibly even longer, for the next ship with room for passengers to depart.”

  He handed Silas the paper with the figures on it. Silas’s mind boggled; the estimated cost to travel to Amber Bay and across the sea and settle in a foreign land was between eighteen and nineteen hundred gildings. While he and Lainie had something in the neighborhood of sixteen hundred gildings left of the two thousand Brin Coltor had paid them.

  It was too expensive, and Lainie would never agree to it, and in any case it wasn’t a decision to be made lightly, but still… It was something to keep in mind if the situation with the Mage Council turned out to be as bad as he feared it might be. “How do folks feel about wizards where you’re from?”

  “Wizards?” The shopkeeper chuckled a little. “Dear sir, everyone knows that magic does not exist,” he said with absolute certainty.

  “I see. Not that it matters anyhow, if I can’t afford to go.” Silas pocketed the pouch containing the ring box and tipped his hat to the shopkeeper. “Nice doing business with you.”

  “And with you as well, sir. Oh!” the shopkeeper exclaimed as Silas turned to leave. “I’ve just remembered something.”

  Silas paused. “What is it?”

  “I have heard,” the shopkeeper went on, “that the cattlemen’s cooperative association is still hiring hands for the cattle drive this year. If one desired to earn some money.”

  The cattle drive. Silas hadn’t thought of that. He wasn’t a cowhand; it had never occurred to him to seek out that kind of work. But he’d heard that a hand on the big annual cattle drive to the Gap could earn fifteen gildings a month or more for the four or five months of the drive, plus a handsome bonus after the cattle were sold. Cooks could earn even more, and Lainie was an excellent cook. He worked the figures out in his head, and came up with a number well over two hundred gildings, which would put him and Lainie at least within easy reach of what they would need to travel to the lands across the sea.

  Going on the drive would also get them to Piney Ridge without spending any additional money. And if they hid their power, laid low, and blended in with the rest of the drive crew, they could avoid drawing the notice of other mages along the way and at the Gap. Once they got to the Gap, they would have to be careful of all the mages there for the market. But with so many mages around, a shield on his power would likely go undetected, and Lainie’s power was invisible to non-Wildings-born mages when it was suppressed. Traveling among a large group of Plains who more likely than not hated wizards would present its own difficulties, but, on the whole, despite the risks, this could be the solution to their problems. And he knew that Lainie missed the ranch; she might enjoy the chance to return to the life she had grown up with, even if only for a few months.

  “Thanks,” he said. “I do believe I’ll look into that.”

  Chapter 2

  THE OFFICE OF the Windy Valley cattlemen’s co-op was two buildings down from Fine Things. Silas left Abenar hitched in front of the store and walked over. He had to admit he was curious what it was like to work the drive, having never done ranching work before, and he was sure Lainie would enjoy it.

  A bell on the door jangled as he walked into the co-op office. Inside, a balding, stocky man, his skin toughened by sun and wind and scars, sat at a big desk that was covered with stacks of paper. The engraved wooden plate on the desk said Argus Landstrom, Manager, Windy Valley Cattlemen’s Cooperative Association. Silas checked the manager for power and found not a glimmer.

  Landstrom looked up from his papers. “Afternoon,” he said to Silas. “What can I do for you?”

  “I hear you’re still looking for hands for the drive this year,” Silas said.

  “Yep. Still have some openings. Rumor has it the buyers will be paying the highest prices ever this year, which means more cattle on the drive and more chance of trouble with rustlers. So we’re taking on extra men. Can I interest you in signing up?”

  “That’s what I’m here for.”

  “Good. Glad to hear it.” Landstrom took out a sheet of paper covered with lines, most of which were already filled in. “Right here.” He pointed to the first blank line, near the bottom of the page. “Name, a reference if you’ve got one, if you have your own horse and kit. Signing on as a hand, I take it? Not as a horse wrangler or cook?”

  “Hand. Though I was wondering if I could sign my wife on too, as a cook.”

  Landstrom raised bushy, sandy-bl
ond eyebrows. “Not many fellas are brave enough, or fool enough, to bring their wives along on a cattle drive.”

  Silas opened his duster a bit to reveal the large revolver holstered at his left hip. “People don’t generally bother her. And, in any case, she’s capable of taking care of herself.” As Orl Fazar had learned to his great hurt.

  “If you say so. Can she cook?”

  Silas glowed a little inside at the thought of Lainie’s cooking. “Like a dream.”

  “All right, then. I know the Bingtons were hoping for an assistant or two. Husband and wife, as it happens, but she’s not a young and pretty gal like I’m assuming your wife is, you being a young and good-lookin’ fella yourself, and anyhow if a fella were to even look at Iva wrong, she’d break his neck with one hand.”

  “Last man who tried anything funny with my wife nearly got himself gelded,” Silas said. “By her.”

  Landstrom laughed. “All right, then. She should be fine. Sign here, one line for you and one for her. You’re sure she’ll be agreeable to this?”

  “We need the money, and we aren’t doing anything else at the moment. Besides, she grew up on a ranch and I think she misses it.” He bent over the desk to write on the log. Silas Vendine. He put a name-slip charm on his signature so that anyone looking at it wouldn’t quite be able to make out his handwriting. Reference: Brin Colter, BC Crown Ranch; horse: yes; kit: He wasn’t sure exactly what kind of equipment a hand on a cattle drive would need besides saddle and harnessing, boots, hat, and bedroll. He glanced up at Landstrom.

  “We’ll have extra supplies, ropes and so forth, available to buy before we head on out,” the manager said.

  “Good.” Silas wrote, some, then went on to the next line. Lainie Vendine; Reference: Brin Coltor, BC Crown Ranch; horse: yes; kit: some. He put the same charm on Lainie’s name, to make it slippery to the eyes and mind.

  “Fine, then.” Landstrom took the register and read over what Silas had written. His eyes widened. “Brin Coltor, eh?”

  “We helped him with a little trouble he had early this past winter,” Silas said. “He seemed pleased with the results.” He always carried the letter of reference Coltor had given him, well-guarded with keeper charms, name-slip charms, and other protective spells, when he went into town in case he ran into some sort of trouble or otherwise had need of it. Now, he took it out of the inner pocket of his duster and handed it to Landstrom.

  The co-op manager read the letter, then handed it back to Silas. “Well, if Brin Coltor thinks you’re solid, that’s good enough for me.” He went back to the registration sheet, then his eyebrows rose again. “Does that say your wife’s name is Lainie? That wouldn’t be Burrett Banfrey’s little girl, would it? From down to Bitterbush Springs? You said she was raised on a ranch.”

  Even though most of the ranchers in the Wildings seemed to know of each other, Silas hadn’t figured on running into anyone here in remote Windy Valley who could guess who Lainie was. But if he denied it, there was a chance someone else on the drive would recognize her and the lie would be revealed. “Yes, as a matter of fact. That’s her.”

  “Well, well, well. I’d heard tell she’d been carried off by some gods-damned wizard and forced to become a wizard herself. Glad to see that’s not true and she landed herself a fine strapping husband instead.”

  A strange reason for Landstrom to dismiss the rumors, but Silas wasn’t inclined to complain. Though he did have to wonder what sort of mental image Landstrom had of wizards, if being a fine physical specimen – if he did say so himself – disqualified him from being one. “Well, you know how it is with rumors.”

  “I’ve heard about Miss Lainie’s cooking and that she can ride herd as good as any man. We’ll be glad to have her along.”

  This bit of conversation brought up another problem Silas hadn’t considered. “Say, there isn’t any chance of her running into any fellows from back home, is there?”

  Landstrom gave him a knowing wink. “Afraid some old spark might try to light a fire with her? No, the herds from south of the Gap River take the southern route, passing below the Roughs. Shorter, and it’d be too hard to get all those cattle across the river. You won’t see any of those folks till the Gap.”

  That was a relief; they wouldn’t have to worry about the hands with the Bitterbush Springs herd, who knew the truth about Lainie and him, stirring up trouble, at least not until they got to the Gap. Once there, they would just have to be even more careful to keep their heads down and their names to themselves, which they would have to do anyway, with all the mages that would be there. “It’s not her I don’t trust,” he said, “it’s those boys. Not that I blame them.”

  Landstrom chuckled a little. “Of course not. So, Mr. –” He glanced down at the paper and frowned. “Vendim, right? Your pay will be twenty-five gildings per month, figuring five months from mustering to sale, and thirty-five for your wife. Cooks earn more – the drive moves on its stomach – and I figure she’ll also help with the herding at times. Hope it don’t bother you to be earning less than your wife.”

  Silas grinned. His pay was a good bit more than he’d hoped it would be, and if any woman deserved to earn more than a man, it was Lainie. “Not at all. She’s worth every copper bit of it.”

  “Good. A real man shouldn’t be afraid of his wife showing him up. Some no-good sons of bitches treat their wives worse than their dogs, trying to keep the little woman in her place to make themselves look better. Sounds like Banfrey’s girl is in good hands with you.” He initialed the two lines on the registration sheet, left-handed; a gold wedding ring flashed on that hand. Silas decided he liked Landstrom, in spite of the man’s dislike of wizards. “Muster is –” Landstrom checked a sketched-out calendar on his desk. “Third day from today, Gatherer’s Day. Sunrise. If you haven’t shown up, checked in, and collected your kit by the time we leave, you’ll be left behind.”

  “We’ll be there,” Silas said. “Looking forward to it.” He tipped his hat to Landstrom and left the office, almost as excited to tell Lainie about their upcoming adventure as he was to give her the ring.

  * * *

  DUSK HAD DESCENDED by the time Silas arrived back at the cabin. The air was chilly, but the constant breeze held a hint of warmer weather to come, perfect for hitting the trail again. Silas checked the shield around the cabin; it was still there, still intact. He took it down, reabsorbing the unspent power, then rode Abenar to the stable and tended him. Lainie hadn’t milked Daisybell yet; she must still be asleep. Silas took care of the chore, then picked up the heavy burlap sack filled with his purchases from the general mercantile, where he had stopped after his conversation with Landstrom, and went to the cabin.

  Lainie was just waking up as Silas came in. He paused in the doorway and looked at her, sleepy-eyed and tousle-haired. As tended to happen at unexpected moments, memories of the times when he had nearly lost her rushed into his mind – the hanging mob in Bitterbush Springs putting the noose around her neck, Orl Fazar holding his knife to her throat, the dark powers summoned by the old Ta’ayatan wiseman pushing her spirit from her body, the demonsalts addiction wracking her body with convulsions – and sent a chill of fear through him. Never again would he let her come so close to dying, he vowed as he had so many times before. Never again would he fail her so badly.

  He watched appreciatively as she sat up and stretched, completely unselfconscious in front of him. “You just get back?” she asked as she reached for the clothes he had left folded next to the bed for her.

  “Just now.” He sat down beside her on the bed as she dressed, and set the burlap sack on the floor with a clanking of metal cans. “Have good nap?”

  “Yeah. But now I’m hungry.”

  He leaned in and kissed her. “I think I can do something about that.”

  “I mean for food.”

  He laughed. “I know that’s what you meant.” He opened the sack and started taking out his purchases. With the amount of food he bought every time
he came in the store, the owner of the mercantile must have thought he was feeding a stableful of ranch hands. He would have bought more today if they weren’t heading out on the cattle drive in a few days. There were two paperboard boxes of flatbread, a dozen packets of dried meat and a dozen more of dried fruit, and several cans each of preserved peaches, applesauce, tomatoes, and beef stew.

  The scientists in the lands across the sea had invented the method of preserving food in tightly-sealed metal cans, and although canned food from the canneries out at Amber Bay was a little costly, it meant that even in the remote areas of the Wildings at the tail end of winter, folks could eat better than ever before. Food could also be preserved with magic; the meat that was butchered after the big cattle market was magically preserved for shipping and storage. But magical preservation required the work of mages, and with their deep suspicion and hatred of mages, the Wildings settlers refused to touch food or anything else that had been touched by magic.

  On the other hand, he had hardly met a settler who didn’t have a favorite canned food, Lainie’s being applesauce. She was a fine cook, but when she was exhausted from heavy training, it was easier to open a couple of cans for supper. When she did feel like cooking, she could work wonders with the contents of a can or two and a few other simple ingredients. As well, food preserved in cans was portable and easy to store, and the empty cans made excellent targets for shooting practice. The only problem with canned food was that so far no one had invented an easy and efficient way of opening the cans other than stabbing through the top with a good, sharp knife. Silas found that a little magic also helped do the trick.