“Point taken,” he said when he sat back.
“My father found out, of course, and he was furious. They came down on me like a hammer. I was restricted to the tree, to my own chambers. They were going to get me a handmaid who was immune to my magic, and on and on. All the while, yelling at me and then going off to their own affairs…literally.
“I was so angry. Thoughts ran through my head about what I could do to them, how I could get out, what I would do to that snitch of a boy. In reality, I did nothing. They were still my family after all.”
“And then?”
“Then, he showed up. Some man, I’m still not sure who it was, stepped out of the shadows in the hall one day. He told me that I was worth more than being a farm girl, if only I had the right training. I told him that there was no way my parents would allow that, and then he changed everything.
“He asked me what would happen if they were too busy with their own problems to pay attention to where I was. I asked him what he meant, but he only laughed, stepped back into the shadows and was gone. I had never seen anything like it.”
“He was from here, of course,” Thaddeus said.
Melanie nodded. “Didn’t know that then, obviously. Like everyone else, I didn’t even know Subtle Hemlock existed.”
“And this was your test. Provide a diversion so you could get away on your own.”
“Yep. And I did. I influenced my father’s lover to publicly come out, in the most embarrassing fashion I could. Leaving his chambers, unclothed and going to my mothers. My father tried to stop her of course but couldn’t. Not until she burst in on my mother, my father right behind. Mom was busy herself.”
She gave a soft, bitter laugh. “The place went up. Yelling, screaming, accusations. It was ugly. But it worked. They forgot all about me. I left the tree, the compound and the area. Wandered around the Greenweald for a week, getting what I needed by asking for it, and if that didn’t work, taking it. It got easier as I went. And if someone did refuse me, whatever I wanted, I found some way to pay them back. A favorite tree got sick, maybe, or a pet suddenly died. That got easier, too.”
Thaddeus felt queasy at Melanie causing a tree to sicken. Like most Folk, he felt a connection with the Greenweald and its trees that went deep.
“I know,” Melanie said. “I was horrible. Soon enough, I guess I was horrible enough for this place. They found me, brought me here, and this is where I’ve been ever since.”
“And how long has that been?”
She shrugged. “Hard to tell, really. Time passes strangely here, but I think it’s been a couple of years.”
“They haven’t sent you out on a task yet?”
“Nope. Actually, you’re my first one. Until now, I’ve been the one in training. I think Malachi wants to see how I do with you, and then maybe he’ll send me out.”
She yawned and stretched, sliding down to lie flat again. “Now you know my story,” she said. “Does it change anything?”
Thaddeus slid down next to her and pulled her close. “No. Not really. But tell me something. Am I just here because of your appetites?”
She smiled at him. “Does that bother you?”
“Not really,” Thaddeus said again.
Chapter 10
Finding a place to hide wasn’t always easy. Those that came out after full dark, after the brightly colored hunters were gone, often came from those same places that she would use if she could: niches in alleys, corners tucked away out of sight. But the woman managed to find another unoccupied alley and slipped inside, squeezing against the wall again. This time, no little girl was out on the street and she sank down and put her head on her knees.
It was fully night now, which meant the hunters would be gone, back to wherever they went until dawn arrived. In the meantime, she needed to avoid the others, the normal people who lived in this horrible town.
The people here were short and stout, much more so than she was. That was enough to make her stick out like a sore thumb, but she also looked different from them. Their features were slightly brutal, more like the Hairy Men who lived to the north of the Greenweald, with heavy brows, bulbous noses and square jaws. Both women and men had wiry hair, dark for the most part, turning to gray as they aged.
And they weren’t friendly. When she first arrived here, she asked questions about where the gate was, and was rebuffed at every turn. Those that didn’t outright ignore her tried to lure her into their houses, with leers that lingered on her body. She wasn’t naïve enough to fall for that. A couple of times she was physically attacked and needed to defend herself with skills that Solomon had taught her. After that, most left her alone. At least, they did during the day.
At night, a rougher element came out of hiding. They roved the streets in bands, searching for victims, but mostly finding each other. The woman had witnessed several melees between different groups in the time she had been here. The losers were inevitably robbed of what little they owned, if not outright killed. The next morning there would be no bodies. She suspected the hunters took the dead as well as the living, even though she never actually witnessed that. Regardless, all that was left when the sun rose were the bloodstains on the shoddy brick streets to tell the tale of what happened.
Not that anyone cared.
She huddled down, making herself as small and inconspicuous as she could. There was a scattering of refuse in the alley that she pulled to herself and pushed around her. Between that and the hood on the dark cloak she was given when she arrived in this world, anyone passing might glance into the alley and see nothing more than piled trash.
Sleeping at night was dangerous, but she needed the daylight hours to find the gate. So she found places of relative safety and dozed off sitting up, sleeping lightly despite her exhaustion. If she managed to find what she was seeking she could go home, go back to her father’s tree and sleep for days on end in a real bed, with the breeze blowing through the window.
That breeze whispered softly in her mind as she slid into a fitful sleep, and for a short while, she went home.
♦ ♦ ♦
“Heh. What’s this?”
A rough, deep voice, with an unhealthy phlegmy sound, woke her. She jerked awake and looked up.
The man watching her was typical of this place; thick arms and legs, dressed in rough-spun clothing that was stained from any number of vile things. He watched her from beneath bushy black eyebrows, out of small, dark eyes that glinted in the dim light of the lantern he carried.
Two boys were with him, both standing behind and leering past the older one. They looked much like he did, and for a moment she wondered if they were his sons or merely foundlings. Not that it mattered.
“I don’t want any trouble,” she said.
“Oh. Well, excuse us then. We’ll be on our way.”
But they didn’t move on, as she knew they wouldn’t. Instead he laughed, and the two boys behind him echoed it.
“Please.” Politeness never seemed to work here; it only seemed to encourage them. But she couldn’t get herself out of the habit of trying to reason her way out of trouble first.
“Please? Aren’t we the hoity-toity one? Hear that boys? The lovely lady said please. What do we say to that?”
The laughter was guttural, sounding more like grunts of pain than expressions of merriment. The woman took this time to size them up. The paunch on the man was evidence that he was well-fed, which on the streets at night made him dangerous. He was able to take what he wanted and keep it. The boys were less so but still didn’t have that starved appearance that so many did. This group was doing well for itself, a bad sign.
If the man attacked, the boys would join in, whatever his intention. If the man was driven away, they’d follow and maybe she wouldn’t have to hurt them.
“I’m asking one more time,” she said quietly, shifting into position as she did. “Please go away and leave me alone.”
“Nah,” the man said, and licked his lips. “I don’t think
we’ll be doing that. Right, boys?”
He turned his head and started to laugh again, which was when the woman lashed out. She pushed against the wall, kicking out and catching the man in the side of his knee with the bottom of her foot. There was a loud crack and his laughter turned into a scream as he collapsed to the ground.
She kept the motion going and sprang to her feet, towering over the boys. Keeping her eyes on them, she kicked again, catching the man in the temple, and his screams stopped, his body going limp.
“Take him and go,” she said.
The boys stared at her, eyes wide and frightened. They slowly reached down, never taking their eyes off her, and grabbed the man under his arms, pulling him away.
She was taller, faster, and stronger than those in this town. And she had been partially trained by the best. Those were advantages. But she was also alone, and this city held more dangers at night than she could fight her way out of.
The man’s screams would draw attention, the worst kind. Abandoning her hiding place, she quickly moved away in search of another.
♦ ♦ ♦
She yawned and stretched when the sunlight woke her. It was a good night, relatively speaking. The earlier attack was the only one she endured, and she even slept through the dawn hours, when the hunters stalked the streets, which was stupid. It told her how tired she really was though. If she didn’t find the gate soon, she’d have to do something. Carelessness like this would get her killed here.
She rose, wincing at the stiffness she felt every morning and walked from the alley.
The city was in full-blown activity by now. Vendors hawked their wares from hastily set-up booths, and the bars and taverns already had their doors open, trying to lure people in with the promise of cheap alcohol and welcoming women.
Everywhere, the woman saw people shuffling along, either ignoring others or arguing. There were no friendly conversations, only sullen expressions and dangerous glances.
What a far cry from the Greenweald. And how foolish she had been when she was there. She was so convinced that her life was horrible, because her father didn’t approve of Solomon, wanted her to be safe and protected her. Now she would give anything to be back with him, safe and warm in his embrace.
And Solomon? Who knew where he was. The spirit that dumped her here in this place had either killed him or taken him somewhere else. She didn’t expect to ever see him again.
She didn’t want to think about that. As much as she missed her father and her home, the memory of Solomon threatened to bring her to despair, and she couldn’t afford that.
Concentrate on finding the gate, she thought to herself. Get home, then worry about him.
Since coming here she’d made no friends nor found anyone willing to talk to her. At this point, she didn’t have any idea of where the gate was, or if it really was in this city, or maybe beyond. And so far, she hadn’t come up with any firm way of looking in hidden places for it.
Face it, she thought, all you’re doing is wandering, hoping to get lucky. That isn’t going to work. Make a better plan!
It wasn’t the first time she’d told herself that, and this time the result was no different. There was nothing and nobody around who would be of any help.
Fighting back a sudden rush of tears, she looked around her, set her jaw and determined to find something, anything, that would lead her to at least a clue.
People pushed past her, ignoring her even though she obviously didn’t belong here and was lost and bewildered. They treated her no differently than they did each other.
Except for those two. The couple standing in the middle of the street, holding hands and turning slowly in circles, staring at everything, every face that passed them by. Especially the children.
“Oh,” the woman whispered, realizing who they must be.
She cautiously approached them, moving slowly through the press of people.
The short woman’s cheeks were wet with tears, and the man seemed to be holding them back himself.
“Excuse me,” she said when she neared.
The couple spun to her, eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“What do you want?” the man growled. The hand that didn’t hold on to his wife’s, if that’s what she was, dropped to his side, digging into his pocket for some weapon.
She held up her own empty hands. “I don’t mean any harm. But I saw you looking….”
“It’s none of your business,” the man said, at almost the same time that the woman let go of his hand and stepped forward.
“Have you seen her?” she asked, her eyes bright with hope. “Have you seen our daughter?”
Her heart broke when she saw the hope fade as the woman saw her expression. “I did,” she said, hating herself but knowing that she would want to know. “I’m sorry. They took her. I tried to fight them off…”
The small woman sobbed and buried her head in the man’s shoulder. He looked over her at the taller woman. “You tried to help her? Why?”
“She was a child.”
“She wasn’t your child.”
“No, but she was somebody’s. I’m sorry.”
She turned to go when the short woman cried out, “Wait! Please, tell us. Is she dead?”
The woman turned back. “No. Or at least she wasn’t when I saw her last. But she wasn’t herself either. I think they took her.”
The short woman nodded, glanced at her husband and said. “Who are you? You’re not from here, are you?”
“No, I’m not. My name is Celia, and I’m from far away.”
“Where are you going? And where are you staying?”
Celia shrugged. “I’m not sure, honestly. And I’ve been staying on the street.”
The short woman looked at her husband again. He shook his head no, but she silently pleaded with him. He grimaced, said no again, then relented and with a frown turned to Celia.
“Come with us,” he said abruptly. “At least tonight you’ll have a safe place to stay.”
Celia hesitated. It could be a trap, a trick to get her into their house. Then she looked closer at the hair starting to gray on both of them. At the way the woman was clinging to the man’s hand again. At the very fact that they were out here, searching for their lost daughter.
If there was any goodness in this city at all, perhaps she’d just stumbled across it.
“Thank you,” she said, the words rushing out of her as she fully realized how grateful she was. “Thank you.”
Chapter 11
It was good to get out of the office for a while. To breathe the outside air and listen to the sounds of the soldiers training. A lot of that was going on. Shireen had authorized the induction of several young people into the ranks, younger than they normally would have accepted. The battle against the Soul Gaunts, then against House Glittering Birch, had taken its toll though. And even if they did cause more losses than they took, House Towering Oaks was still in dire need.
They were vulnerable right now, and she lived in fear that Jamshir would bring his might against them again. His House was depleted too, but a lot of them simply retreated when Whispering Pines showed up, and made their way back to their own House. Besides, who knew what else Jamshir was keeping up his sleeve.
“They’re coming along,” Orlando said, approaching and wiping sweat from his brow.
“Not fast enough.”
“They’re trying. And we’ve got soldiers training them who aren’t used to doing that. Some of them barely out of training themselves.”
“I know,” she sighed, “and I do appreciate the efforts everyone is making. But we’re still too weak.”
Orlando nodded. There wasn’t much more to say.
Shireen watched as one young recruit awkwardly waved his sword, lunging at his trainer, a woman hardly older than the trainee. She laughed and easily dodged the blow, disarming him and thumping him a good one on the shoulder with her practice sword, sending him sprawling.
“Hold on!” Shireen yel
led, striding forward.
She reached down and helped the young man to his feet. “You’re doing it wrong,” she said.
“I know,” he replied, rubbing his shoulder.
“Here, hold your sword like this.” She showed him the proper way. “Too heavy? Use your other hand to support your sword hand then, like this. And stop swinging at her sword. You don’t want to hurt that, you want to hurt her.”
The young man took a better stance and Shireen nodded. “Better. Now let me see your sword.”
She took it and turned to the trainer. “Do you think this is a game?”
The other woman was taken aback. “A game? No, of course not!”
“Then why weren’t you showing him the right way?”
“I thought I was. I was letting him make his mistakes and then showing him—"
“After you put a few bruises on him first? Because you didn’t do it right?” She lifted the practice sword. “Let me show you how to do it correctly.”
The trainer grinned and saluted her, lifting her own weapon. Shireen shook her head. The young woman was full of bravado and false confidence.
Moments later, Shireen was standing over her, the trainer rubbing her shoulder in the same spot the young man had.
“Should I tell you your mistake now? Or would you like me to let you keep making it?”
“No, ma’am.” The young woman’s voice held a new tone of respect.
Shireen reached down and helped her to her feet. “Were you there?” It was a common question these days, and one that needed no further explanation.
The trainer shook her head. “No. Lawrence was my commander. He said I wasn’t ready yet.”
“That explains a lot,” Shireen replied. “We need soldiers, and we need them quickly. Not people interested in playing around, or in hurting others to make themselves feel good. Are you either one of those?”
“No, ma’am!” The young woman drew herself up.
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