by John Booth
“I was rescued from the marsh by a dragon.”
“So you say,” Hala said sarcastically without thinking. She cringed down, waiting for the inevitable punishment for being cheeky to an adult. After a few seconds of nothing happening, she risked looking up and found herself staring into Daniel’s smiling face.
“You are right to be skeptical, Hala; but it did happen.” Daniel knelt so they were face to face. “I met a princess of the Fairie only a couple of years ago. It was outside Delbon in the Great Forest. She was quite impressive.”
“Daniel finds all women with big breasts impressive,” Jalia said over Daniel’s shoulder. “You may have noticed how he was practically drooling over that Cara woman only yesterday.”
“That seems like weeks ago,” Hala replied. “I have never had as many adventures in my life as I have in this one week.”
Daniel got to his feet and gave Jalia a big grin. She rose to the bait as always.
“What’s so funny, boy?”
“They say that massage makes them bigger. I just wanted you to know that no matter how onerous the task, I will always be there for you, should you need me.” Daniel ran towards his donkeys, laughing merrily.
Hadon had them out of camp and onto the road before the sun rose over the trees. He decided to lead the party, so Jalia and Daniel took positions down the train. They stayed ahead of Ferd, who was leading the donkeys. He had a way of stopping and refusing to budge when Daniel was behind him.
“I wonder what a war is like,” Jalia mused as they made steady progress up the road.
“You’re thinking about all those swords?” Daniel asked.
Jalia nodded. “We have been in many battles, but they were all on a small scale. I find it difficult to imagine hundreds of people fighting hundreds of others. It sounds so impersonal to me.”
“You and I fought an army in Ranwin.”
“You and your dagger fought that battle and it was one sided. I never imagined there could be so much blood spilt in one place.”
“There was no choice.”
“I know.”
Hadon shouted for the train to stop. The traders and donkeys came to a dutiful halt. Jalia and Daniel rode to the front to see what was going on.
They had been traveling down the shallow sloping side of a valley. Forest cut short their view in all directions. When they reached the front they discovered he had turned a corner and almost marched into a village.
“What’s the problem?” Jalia asked. A few villagers had spotted them and stood outside their cottages, waiting for them to continue.
“Is it safe?” Hadon asked Grilt. “Are we going to have to fight?”
Grilt looked down the slope to the group of villagers staring at them. Several small children could be seen, clinging to their mother’s skirts. As far as Grilt was concerned, it should have been obvious to a moron that this wasn’t any kind of a trap.
“I’m fairly sure it’s safe, your grace. However, to be on the safe side I think a few of us should go and talk to the villagers first,” he said straight faced while trying hard not to laugh.
“Best if the ones with horses go,” Jalia opined equally gravely. “Grilt, you could get up on Blaze with Hala if you wanted.”
“Good suggestion Jalia,” Grilt continued in his most military manner. “Tel, you look after things here while we go ahead and check out the village.”
Tel was annoyed that he was going to be left behind, but he appreciated the joke.
“I’ll gather the animals in a circle with men guarding them, shall I?” he asked, trying to add a bit of more humor into the game.
“Good thinking, Tel. I think that would be wise,” Grilt said as he pulled himself onto Blaze behind Hala. Hala had moved forwards and relinquished the stirrups. Hala wasn’t quite sure what was going on, but she felt it must be safe because she wasn’t being told to stay behind.
The horses trotted down the road towards the curious villagers, who were by wondering what was going on.
Tally Belder ran into the Lord’s House panting and much out of breath. Samel Rafe looked benignly at the thirteen year old boy and waited for him to get his breath back. He didn’t look frightened, so Samel felt no sense of panic.
Samel Rafe had been the village elder for almost five years. It was an honor and a privilege but it could also be a severe pain in the posterior. If someone’s bees started to swarm or a child sprained a wrist, it was always Samel they called on first.
Tally looked up through his untidy curly hair at Samel as he tried to get enough breath back to speak. Samel looked very old to Tally, though not as old as his grandfather, who was truly ancient. The village elder was a small round man with a kind face.
Even the fact that his son Torin had gone into the forest with the Fasser brothers had not bothered Samel. He just told his wife and those who asked that ‘he will be home soon enough when he feels the need of good home cooking,’ and then he laughed.
Tally knew enough to stay away from the Fasser brothers. Gef had whipped him for peeking into his cottage window and then Tally’s father had whipped him again for getting that close to Gef and Tom. Tally hadn’t been able to sit down for a week and stayed well clear whenever the brothers were home.
“Traders… at the west end of the village… a lot of them… some on horseback.” Tally finally managed to get out.
“Well, we haven’t had any traders from Sweetwater for years,” Samel said cheerfully. “Gef told me that the river was proving too difficult to cross at Padurs Ford. We must welcome them at once, Tally. You may even have to comb your hair.”
Tally grimaced at the joke. It was well known that Tally’s hair would not stay in place, even when his mother covered his head in goose fat. It was just a fact of life.
As Samel and Tally walked out of the front door, Samel’s wife came running up, her hands and arms soaking wet.
“I’ve just heard about our visitors,” she said rather breathlessly. She was as fat as her husband and walking any distance made her wheeze. “I was washing the clothes when Gerta rushed up to tell me. Don’t forget to ask them if they have seen Cara and the Marin boys. They might have found Torin by now, and be bringing him home.”
“I’ll get around to it in before they leave, my love,” Samel said with a broad smile and hugged his wife. “Torin will be safe with Bril. You know how those two boys do everything together. Gef and Tom won’t have let any harm come to them, you’ll see.”
“I have never trusted Gef…, or his brother, if it comes to that,” Ralta said in a worried voice. “I shall be glad when Torin comes back safe and sound. I have this feeling in the pit of my stomach that I just can’t get rid of. It’s been with me for two days now. I’m sure something has happened to him.”
“Do stop fussing woman. Torin is fine. He has been off with Gef and Tom many times before, though what they find to do in the forest is beyond me. I am hoping it has something to do with a girl. Grandchildren would be wonderful.”
Samel walked down the road to the other end of the village. Ralta stood watching, wringing her hands. The cold feeling in her stomach had come back with a vengeance and it just wouldn’t let go.
“I believe you are pandering to His Grace’s paranoia,” Daniel said to Grilt as they approached a group of villagers. Something approaching a crowd had gathered, but the people in the front stood back from the road and looked towards a small fat man hurrying to meet them.
“This way, we get to be in charge. His Grace has a way of putting people’s noses out of joint and I had been hoping for a quiet uneventful journey when I started this job.”
“Hello the village!” Jalia shouted in the traditional greeting. Apparently, she meant to be the spokesman.
“Welcome, welcome,” Samel puffed in response. He waved his pudgy arms at them in greeting. “My name is Samel and I am the Elder of Priven. Who do I have the privilege of addressing?”
“My name is Jalia al’Dare,” Jalia stood in her stirru
ps so she could point out her traveling companions. “The goofy looking one on the black horse is Daniel and the other two are Grilt and Hala. We are with a party of traders making their way to Boathaven.”
“You are most welcome. We haven’t had travelers visit from the direction of Sweetwater for years. We wondered if something had happened. You are most welcome to stay the night and I hope you will tell us stories of Telmar and the world beyond.”
“I’m not sure that Hadon Mallow will want to spare the time,” Daniel said. “He is the leader of this expedition and he is anxious for us to get to Boathaven. However, Jalia and I are looking to buy goods in the village and I am sure we will have something you want in return. I bring spices from the south.”
“Then you are doubly welcome,” Samel said, licking his lips. His wife’s request came to mind and he spoke her question. “Tell me, did you encounter Cara Marin and her brothers on your travels? They were looking for their brother Bril who is with my son Torin. I wouldn’t bother you, but his mother does fret about him.”
Jalia looked at Daniel and waited for him to say something. He was not the kind of man to shy away from the truth, however awkward it might be. To her surprise, it was Grilt who spoke before anyone else could think of the words.
“We did meet Lady Cara and her brothers’ early yesterday afternoon. Just after we crossed the river, as it happens. They left us and crossed over the river looking for their brother, and I am certain they will have found him by now. If he was with your son, they will certainly have found them both by now.”
“Gef told me that the river crossing was impossible these days,” Samel said in an anxious manner, his normally cheerful face twisted into an unaccustomed frown.
“It isn’t the safest ford in the world by any means,” Daniel agreed. “Jalia tripped while crossing it and had some trouble. However, we watched the Marin’s cross it to the other side as safely as we did ourselves.”
Jalia realized that Daniel was going to let Samel cling to the illusion that his son was alive for the time being. It was out of character for Daniel, as he believed people had the right to be told the truth.
“Well then, I shall tell my wife that we can expect Torin home soon,” Samel said, his smile returning as quickly as it had vanished. “Will you bring the rest of your party into the village? I’m sure there are lots of pots of tea brewing even as I speak. We have not had so many visitors for a long time.”
Grilt turned on his horse and waved to Tel. Tel waved back.
Tel turned to Hadon who stood next to him looking concerned.
“It is safe for us to enter the village, Your Grace.”
“How can you be sure? Grilt only waved. It could have meant anything.”
“That was a special military wave, taught to us in the guard, Your Grace,” Tel lied effortlessly. “I can assure you that if they were in trouble, Grilt would have given me a subtly different wave. Not that a layman could tell the difference, Your Grace.”
“But we have only just got the donkeys into a circle,” Hadon grumbled. “We can only stay an hour, if that. We need to get a move on or we shall miss the boat.”
There was much grumbling in the camp, as the traders got ready for travel again, having just settled down. The promise of meeting new people and sampling their hospitality, did however, go some way to make up for it.
Jalia sought a seamstress in the village who might have clothes to trade. She was pointed towards a small cottage near the middle of the village. “Mara will see you all right,” one of the men told her. “She does little else but make and mend clothes since her legs gave out on her. Knock on the door and walk straight in. It will save her having to get up for you.”
Grilt had already dismounted from Blaze and Jalia helped Hala to get down. Daniel asked to borrow Hala’s knife and she passed it to him in surprise. Before she could ask Daniel what he wanted it for, Jalia dragged her away. Jalia led the horses towards the cottage the man had indicated. Hala was surprised at how many of the village children followed them.
Boys and girls took one look at Jalia’s sword on her back; knife at her belt and tight leather clothes and wanted to know all about her. Her short pleated leather skirt, which opened the possibility of the boys seeing something interesting above her well-shaped legs, only added to the size of her retinue. Mothers took one look at Jalia and prayed their daughters wouldn’t emulate her, while father’s looked on enviously that their sons could get so close.
Jalia knocked at the cottage door and then dragged Hala through the door.
The cottage was dark as the shutters were closed.
“Is that you, Samel?” a female voice called out.
“No it is Jalia al’Dare, a visitor to the village. I was told that you sell clothes?”
“Could you open my shutters for me? I’m afraid I can’t do it myself anymore.”
Jalia pointed Hala at the far window and opened the one nearest her. With the shutters open, the cottage looked warm and friendly. There was a large stuffed chair positioned to catch the light from the windows and now that they could see clearly, Jalia saw that a frail young woman sat upon it, almost hidden by the padded arms of the chair.
She was thin and pale. If her face was not so strained, she would have been beautiful, her long auburn hair framing her oval face to perfection. Her clothes were beautifully embroidered and Jalia might have lusted after them on a different day.
“I would love to make you something,” Mara said from the chair, a broad smile on her face. “You are so lithe and beautiful. I used to look a little like you until illness struck me.”
Jalia saw that the woman’s legs were thin and wasted. There were two sticks cut for walking on one side of the chair, but it seemed unlikely that Mara could get far on them.
“I thank you for the compliment. But it is not for myself that I seek clothes. My young traveling companion, Hala, is in need of clothes more suited to the life we lead. She has been with us since Sweetwater and I have not had a chance to sort out clothes before.”
Mara smiled at Hala who turned shy as Jalia introduced her. She tried to hide behind Jalia.
“You are young to be traveling the world,” Mara exclaimed. “I wish I had done that at your age, as I find that I can never do it now. What sort of clothes were you thinking of?”
“Something like mine. She might need to run or fight and her long dress is not useful for that.”
“And I have to ruck it all up whenever I ride Blaze,” Hala added. “It makes me sore in the front.”
“A pair of undergarments might be useful to prevent that too,” Mara suggested.
“I’ve never worn any,” Hala replied. “Don’t they get dirty?”
“Perhaps you might also teach her how to wash herself and her clothes?” Mara continued. Hala blushed bright red, keeping clean had not been seen as a useful thing at the fort.
“Have you got anything suitable?” Jalia asked; feeling a little embarrassed for Hala.
“Of course,” Mara replied. “If you can get her to take her clothes off so I can take measurements, I will have her clothes ready by the morning.”
“I don’t think we have until morning,” Jalia replied. She went over to the window facing the road and watched as Hadon and the rest of the traders entered the village. “The leader of our party is anxious to reach Boathaven and will not let us stay long.”
Mara’s face fell in disappointment. “There is no call for your kind of clothes in the village. I don’t think I can help you after all.”
“Is there nothing you can do? My companion carries spices from the south and I am prepared to be generous with them.”
“Now you are making it worse,” Mara said laughing. “I have not had southern spices in an age and I would kill for some. We used to get a lot of travelers from Sweetwater and Telmar, but in recent years the trade has all but stopped. Gef Fasser and his pig of a brother Tom have been getting supplies from somewhere, but I have nothing they want to trad
e for them.”
Jalia smiled. “I think that trade from Sweetwater may pick up in the future. There has been a problem on the route stopping traders from getting here, but I recently eliminated that particular problem… permanently.”
Mara frowned as she didn’t have a clue what Jalia was talking about. Then an idea occurred to her.
“There are some clothes of mine that might be adapted. It would take at least four hours to do it. Is that too long?”
Jalia continued to stare out of the window. She considered their situation. “We can stay that long. We might need to ride in the dark to catch them up, but we have horses and they are on foot. Make the clothes.”
“But we haven’t discussed the price.”
“I’m certain that won’t be a problem.”
Daniel walked into the blacksmiths with Jet held behind him. A large man came out from behind the big brazier in the middle of the building and looked him over.
“That’s a fine horse you have there, stranger,” he remarked. “The Marin’s would pay good money for it. They breed horses and are always looking for good stock. My name is Worock, by the way.” The blacksmith held out a massive hand, which Daniel shook. As Daniel expected, Worock squeezed his hand to judge his reaction. Daniel’s unexpectedly firm response took him by surprise and Worock winced.
“My name is Daniel,” Daniel replied. “Do you have any skills with making throwing knives?”
“A little, though there is little call for it in Priven. Why do you ask?”
Daniel held out Hala’s knife by its hilt.
“This knife is out of balance. I was wondering what you could do to fix it.”
Worock took the knife from Daniel and tried to balance it on his finger. “It’s too heavy in the blade. I would need to grind down the blade carefully, keeping the length, but narrowing it along its whole length. Then I would have to put an edge on it again and harden it.”
Daniel nodded, as the answer confirmed his opinion.
“We have only a few hours. Can you do it that quickly?”
