by A. L. Knorr
It took Jordan a few minutes to figure out what to do with three more pieces of indigo leatherwork. She eventually sorted out that two of them were wrist cuffs and the last one was an empty sheath that sat low over the hips. There was no weapon for the sheath, but Jordan put the belt on anyway. Sol must have bought it for a reason. Maybe he has a weapon for me. Jordan's stomach dipped with anxiety at the thought of having a knife of some kind strapped to her body - a knife that wasn't a prop for a Halloween costume. But the memory of oversized crab claws snapping at her made her cinch the sheath on tight.
The final article was a dark gray, wool cloak, with a huge billowy hood. Jordan held it up and marvelled at the skill with which it had been made. Embroidery across the back in indigo thread displayed a large tree in the center, with smaller trees to the left and right of it. Curling flourishes in white thread made the wind that flowed through the branches. Jordan put the cloak on and discovered multiple secret pockets sewn into the lining. It was too hot to wear the cloak now, so she took it off.
Jordan smiled as she remembered how Sol had warmed her with his body heat when she was shivering. She closed her eyes. Don't get attached, Jordan. He is not your friend. This is not your home.
Jordan took her filthy clothing down to the bottom floor and tossed it into the fireplace. Sol was seated at a table, eating something from a wooden bowl. A second bowl had been set on the table across from him. Sol paused in his chewing, eyes sweeping her from head to toe with something like approval.
"This clothing is incredible," Jordan said, leaving out that the vest and belt were a little heavy and restrictive. She didn’t want to seem ungrateful. "Thank you. I will pay you back for it. Somehow." She turned and picked up the ties swaying from her belt. "What are these for?"
"Roll your cloak up and you can fasten it there when it’s too hot to wear it," Sol explained. "Or they can carry a bedroll. You can also tie up a bola with them."
"How clever! What's a bola?"
"A weapon. Speaking of weapons, I have one more thing for you." He took a blade from his satchel and set it on the table in front of what Jordan assumed was her breakfast. "I presume you know how to use one of these?"
Jordan sat at the table and picked up the knife. "Ah," Jordan said with exaggerated delight. "I've heard of these. A K-Nife, right?" She took the blade between her fingers, handle up. "It is some kind of a weapon, no? I bop my attacker over the head with the heavy part?" She made to use the handle like a club, pinching the blade between her fingers so she didn't cut herself.
Sol gazed at her through half-closed lids. "Eat." He set a bag of liquid on the table in front of her. “Here is a waterskin. Don’t drink it all at once.”
“You thought of everything,” she said, putting the knife into the sheath at her hip. She took a mouthful of the gruel, letting it sit on her tongue for a moment. It tasted like oatmeal with a touch of honey. Sol was almost finished with his, so she shovelled spoonful after spoonful into her mouth, swallowing without chewing. She was so relieved he hadn't abandoned her that she didn't want him to have to do any waiting. She already felt like a huge burden.
"I have a job to do," Sol said, pushing his empty bowl to the side and lacing his fingers together on the table. "It's more important than our situation."
Jordan swallowed her oatmeal. It’s kind of him to use the word 'our'… "You mean my situation?" She wolfed down another bite, feeling like she hadn't even eaten the night before.
"Yes." Sol took a breath. "I understand why you might think I can help you, but I can't."
Jordan swallowed and put her spoon down. She looked Sol steadily in the eye as he spoke. “I do understand that you are in the middle of something important.” Jordan chose her words carefully. “That there is more at play here than I can possibly understand.”
"Yes.” Sol nodded. “I don't have the power to get you back home and I am bound to serve my king. Every moment that I am delayed could be the cause of a catastrophe in Rodania."
"Rodania?"
"My city and the Strix capital. I am a courier for our monarchy and I have been delayed for far too long. I need to get to the Elves as quickly as possible." At this, Sol's eyes darted to the barmaid behind the bar and he lowered his voice. "I need to get my wings back and finish my delivery. I have to go. Today. Right now. And I can't take you with me; you will slow me down too much."
Jordan fought the urge to smack her forehead down onto the table. She’d thought they were past this. Instead, she took a calming breath and said, "You need to get to the Elves." Stay calm, Jordan. Think.
Sol nodded. "Immediately. I have already been delayed too long."
"How far away are they?" Jordan's fingers began to tremble. She put her hands below the tabletop, between her knees.
"I had wanted to go to the Light Elves, since we have agreements with them already, but since we came out near The Conca, the Elves at the woods of Charra-Rae are much closer. All Elves have healing magic, as far as I know. I could be there in a day by wing, so…" He frowned as he calculated, "maybe three days’ journey by foot."
"That's not so bad," said Jordan. "Could we not throw in together? Achieve both our goals at the same time? Couldn’t the Elves at Charra-Rae help me, too? Wouldn’t they know how to find my mother? How to get me back through a port-"
"Shhhh," Sol said, with another glance at the barmaid. She was behind the bar and had her back to them as she wiped glasses, but she had an ear cocked in their direction. "They would be your best bet," admitted Sol. "You could hitch a ride with a farmer to Campill and go on foot from there. You'll be safe in this valley until Usenno, at least; just don't take off the indigo clothing."
Jordan's heart began to pound and her mouth went dry. She wasn't absorbing his instructions – she was fighting the rising panic at the suggestion that she go on without him. She pushed away the remains of her breakfast. On Earth, Jordan was an independent woman who'd always been proud of never needing anyone. But this wasn't Earth; she'd never felt so vulnerable before, so lost. So needy. She hated the feeling. It festered in her like an infected boil.
"I do understand the urgency of your job. I won’t slow you down. I promise," she said, locking her eyes with his.
"Jordan." Sol sighed. His eyes shuttered closed. He'd braced himself for this, but the sound of her voice plucked at him more deeply than he'd expected. Maybe I should have left this morning without explaining anything. I could have left the clothing with the barmaid, or at the bedroom door—written down a few suggestions and then just slipped away like a ghost.
"I’ll push myself, I’m strong and I won't complain."
"No-"
"But, we're going to the same place," Jordan felt panic rising like the wind before a storm. "It doesn't make sense-"
"I'm so sorry." Sol got to his feet. A muscle in his jaw popped. “I really am. I am bound by duty.”
Jordan darted to her feet too, hands wringing, breath catching in her throat.
"I don't even know what is at stake," Sol continued, softening his tone. "I'm not privy to the contents of what I carry, but I have taken an oath."
"Please," Jordan stepped toward him. "Please, Sol," she looked up into his ice-blue gaze. "Don't do this."
Sol put his hands on her shoulders. "This must be. I wish it could be different. I do.” He hesitated, his face betraying a battle of wills. Jordan’s eyes widened with hope. But he only said: “I wish you good fortune." And with that, he set a small bag of coins on the table and made for the door.
Jordan's hands flew to her face and her throat closed up. She covered her eyes and fought the urge to scream in frustration. Misery flooded her, as bitter and acrid as venom. She was the closest she had ever been to finding what happened to her mother… and yet so far. Her mind flashed to the rotting carcass of the beast she'd landed against, the sounds of the scissoring crab-claw. Will I even survive in Oriceran on my own? What other terrifying beasts lie between here and the Elves of Charra-Rae? In which direction
do they lie?
Sol paused with the door open, glancing back over his shoulder. Jordan still stood at the table, her face in her hands. Sol ground his molars, wishing he hadn't looked back. He closed the door behind him.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Sol strode away from Nishpat's Folly through the busy streets and buzzing market.
More like ‘Sol's Folly,’ he thought and then shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind. It didn't work. The image of Jordan's pleading, teal eyes looking up into his blew through his memory like a smoky apparition. The way she'd stood there with her hands over her face… Sol gave a low growl of frustration. I don’t have time for humans in distress. Not even a sweet, good-natured, beautiful human searching for her long-lost mother. He kept walking, increasing the speed of his steps. With distance and time, Jordan's voice will stop ringing in my ears; the image of her fingers over her eyes will fade.
Sol barely noticed when the town melted away into the countryside and patches of agricultural land rolled across the chessboard tapestry before him.
‘Please,’ she had said. ‘I promise I'll keep up.’
Sol began to curse himself as he thought about all the things he never told Jordan. Don't talk about going through portals with anyone but the Elves. Don't travel at night. Stay in The Conca until you reach Usenno, then climb out, rather than taking the road through the Passage of Skeel; the cankerworms there can siphon away the years of your life while you sleep.
The more he thought about it, the more agitated he grew. He had no way to track her, no way to know how her journey would turn out. Will she ever find her mother?
He cursed himself for leaving and then he cursed himself for caring. He kicked up dirt and dust with his toes as he walked, leaving gouges in the road. Advice was free, so why had his brain frozen up as soon as she'd said ‘please’? He'd hightailed it out of there because if he'd stayed another second longer, he'd have cracked and he knew it. But what if something happened to her? The thought made his hands flex and clench. But, what if the contents of the letter that I carry are a matter of life-and-death?
Sol's head snapped up at the sound of screaming horses.
***
Jordan stood outside Nishpat's Folly for a full ten minutes, having no idea what to do next. She chewed her lip while going over the things Sol had said to her. Three days’ journey to Charra-Rae. Best to see if I can hitch a ride to Usenno and climb out on foot from there…
He’s an ass for leaving me, but dwelling on it isn’t going to do me any good. I need to mobilize. She put her back to the road they'd come in on and walked deeper into the village of Nishpat. She'd tucked the bag of coins into one of the secret pockets of her cloak, then rolled it up and tied it to her lower back with the leather straps dangling from her belt.
Merchant tables sprang up in the shade of various nooks and corners. Birdsong filled the air while the morning sun beamed down from a cloudless sky. Women and men working tables stocked with merchandise nodded politely to Jordan and held out wares for her to view: clothing, pottery, spices and tools Jordan couldn't identify. Back on Earth, Jordan had enough money to buy the entire village, but here, she had only a few coins. It's a test, she thought. Just how independent and resourceful am I without my nearly bottomless bank account? Best to save her coins for food, if possible.
She approached a broad, red-cheeked woman with a nose like melted wax and a friendly look on her face.
"Excuse me, I'm wondering if you might know anyone headed to Usenno today?" Jordan asked. "I'm willing to trade labor for a ride."
The woman squinted at her. "My English, not as good," she said. "Usenno there," she pointed down The Conca stretching off endlessly into the distance.
Jordan smiled, nodded her thanks and moved along. On the edge of town, which she reached very quickly, Jordan spotted an older man lifting burlap bags filled with something heavy—grain, perhaps–onto a small wooden wagon. The wagon had a bench seat with room for two and was hitched to a speckled pony. "Hello. Do you speak English?" Jordan asked with a smile as she neared.
The man paused in his loading and crinkled his eyes at her. "Who's askin’?" He snorted back in his throat and spat a lump of something brown off to the side before bending to pick up another sack. He bared his teeth in what might have been a smile; Jordan wasn’t sure. She was sure, though, that his teeth had never seen a toothbrush.
She stepped to the side to avoid the spittle as it flew by her leg and splatted on the ground. "My name is Jordan. I'm looking for a ride to Usenno. Are you going that way?"
The man pushed the sack onto the wagon and turned back to Jordan, eyeing her more closely. "Six pieces," he grunted, bending over again. Sweat beaded on his brow and Jordan caught a whiff of sour sweat.
"Here's the thing." Jordan bent over to look into his face. "I don't have much money, but I'm strong and I can work. How about I load up the rest of this wagon for you in exchange for a ride?" There were at least two dozen more sacks to load and they looked heavy.
The man's eyes journeyed from her lips to her chest, to the chain that disappeared there between her breasts. "How about that?" He gestured.
Jordan put a hand to her chest, hiding the locket in her grip. "Oh. This isn't for trading."
"I wasn't talking about the trinket," the man said. He snorted back deep in his throat and hocked another gob onto the road. He put his hands on his hips and leered into Jordan's face, expectant.
Jordan's skin crawled and she took a step back. This is how people barter in Oriceran? How did he think this wasn’t insulting? And why was it okay to think it was an even option?
"I'd rather walk," she said, her mouth a flat line. She turned away, but a surprisingly strong hand locked around her wrist and held her in place.
"You'll never make it on foot," he snarled, gusting rotten breath into her face. He jerked his chin toward the market behind them. "Ain’t no one else going to Usenno today, mark me words." He licked his cracked lips and his eyes dropped to Jordan's hips. "I'll take you and all it'll cost you is bein' soft at the nights." He reached a hand toward her waist.
Jordan's face flushed with indignation and disgust. She yanked her hand out of his grip and drove her fist into his gut. It wasn't her hardest shot, but it was enough to send a message.
"Oooof!" The man doubled over. Several faces looked their way in concern and Jordan backed away from the man. She heard someone shout in her direction and she began to walk quickly down the road, away from town. Usenno on foot it would be; or maybe she could find a ride from someone less sleazy the next town over. A different hand clamped down on her shoulder and Jordan turned to look up into the face of a large man with a thick red beard.
"Take your hand off me, please," Jordan said through clenched teeth.
His meaty fingers squeezed, biting into her shoulder. "This the girl?"
The barmaid from Nishpat's Folly stepped out from behind him, her nose in the air and that smug curl in her upper lip. "Aye, that's her."
Jordan glared at the girl.
"Yer comin' with me, you are," the bearded man snarled. Another hand closed around her upper arm. "Talk of breaking the treaty will land you in Trevilsom mighty quick." He spoke slowly and nodded as though convincing himself that this was true.
"She can't be that bright," sniffed the barmaid, setting a hand on a hip. "Talking about portals where people can hear."
"I won't ask you again," Jordan seethed, ignoring the barmaid. "Remove your hand."
Allan had put Jordan into self-defense and mixed martial arts classes when Jordan was only six. She'd hated the classes and fought her father to quit; he had told her she could quit when she was sixteen and she did. Now that she had a vicelike fist around her bicep, she was grateful for her dad’s deal and Jordan's mind settled into that quiet place it lived when she'd been forced to spar.
The bearded man yanked on her upper arm, turning back towards town and dragging Jordan with him. The barmaid fell into step just in front of
them. She crossed her arms and raised her chin like a queen.
Jordan windmilled her arm, breaking the man's grip. Just as he turned to snatch at her, she sent the heel of her right hand into his nose. She felt a crunch as it broke. He grunted in pain as blood spurted down his chin and into his mouth, reddening his teeth. His hands flew up to his damaged face and Jordan grabbed his testicles with her left hand and squeezed. The man gave a garbled cry and froze, afraid to pull away from her, afraid to even move.
The barmaid began to scream words Jordan didn't understand, but she figured it was safe to bet that she needed to get out of Nishpat, fast. People were beginning to draw close and a loose semicircle took shape around them.
Jordan peered up into the giant's face. "I'm going to let go. And you're going to let me walk away. You got that?"
The bearded man whimpered in his throat while blood flowed freely from his broken nose. He nodded, his eyes tearing up. At least this was one thing that was the same here as it was on Earth: Bullies were cowards at heart. That and testicles meant leverage.
