Winterfinding

by Daniel Casey

  She pulled the vellum from her belt. Flicking it open with her thumb, she let the rest of the creases unfold themselves. The writing was in black ink that seemed to shimmer; the script was thick but elegant. She read it over again, the deed granting Reg this land to be added onto his home in Arderra.

  She tucked the deed back into her belt. If Reg had a house in the village, then that would be a good place for Jena to hold up. There were people she needed to talk to, information to be gathered. Hopefully, Reg didn’t have lodgers. Still, if he did, Jena thought as she bent to pick up her rucksack, it shouldn’t be too difficult to deal with them.

  “Evictions are easier than folks think,” Jena whispered to herself as she made her way away from the property. “At least, let’s hope…”

  Arderra wasn’t Anhra. Less people or, at least, actual villagers for one. There weren’t merchants or sailors trudging through the streets or wayward soldiers looking for some sort of sport. Streets were another thing. Everything was dusty, hard whereas Anhra had always felt muddy and soft. There were no planks in the street like in Anhra, just the occasional hitching post rail.

  The buildings of Arderra stood lean with bluish shake siding and, it seemed to Jena, slanted. Nothing was uniform but none of the architecture seemed ambitious. Jena couldn’t tell a shop from a home and the people in the wide streets were painfully plain of dress. There had never been a time when Jena really stood out due to her clothes but it was clear from the looks she was attracting that none of these people had ever seen a free ranger. Or, at least, not often enough to not take note.

  As she came to an intersection, the street narrowed and splayed out into five different slender lanes. Jena strained to see if there were some kind of marker or sign letting her know where she was heading. In Anhra, there were signposts in the center of street intersections that couldn’t be missed—tall and crudely constructed. Here though, it seemed as though everyone knew where to go without looking up from what they were doing.

  “Not exactly convenient for visitors,” Jena mumbled as she drew the vellum.

  “New to town.” Jena turn quickly around and saw a man standing not more than a few feet from her. She wasn’t startled though surprised.

  “You could say that,” Jena replied, angry with herself for letting the man sneak up on her.

  The man held out his hand, “Addison.” His voice was even and friendly. Jena hesitated, holding the vellum tighter.

  “I’m the local constable.” Addison smiled, “So, I think I could point you in the right direction.”

  Setting down her rucksack, Jena held out her hand, “Is that on out of town?”

  Addison smirked, “I wouldn’t say that but you are going to attract some attention. We tend to keep to ourselves here and there’s rarely a draw for…” He eyed her up and down.

  “I’m a free ranger.” Jena said matter of fact. Addison didn’t miss a beat but nodded, “So long as you’re not looking to cause trouble you can claim to be anything.”

  Jena grimaced but Addison held up his hands apologetically, “So then, how can I help?”

  “I need to find Tolland Road.”

  “Looking for the Archway?”

  Jena wasn’t sure. However, if saying so would get her directions, what could it hurt? She nodded slightly.

  Addison gave a sigh of relief, his body visibly relaxed, “I wouldn’t have pegged you as a gifter.”

  “Gifter?” Jena had never heard the term before.

  “No offense meant.”

  “None taken because I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Addison chuckled, “A gifter, one of the noble born youths who’ve grown bored and are slumming it. Playing at being traders, tinkers, rangers, or corsairs. Most are out of Ardavass and Elixem; they come through here thinking we’re Anhra. But they know things here are quieter.”

  “That sounds ridiculous.” Jena couldn’t hide her contempt.

  “No, it’s true. Arderra is a quiet place, more disciplined.” Addison walked around Jena to stand a little further in the road looking at the crossroads.

  Jena shook her head, “I didn’t mean…”

  “I know what you meant. Most gifters have had everything given to them and they expect a certain level of comfort.”

  “I earn my way.”

  Addison nodded, “So long as you don’t take it.”

  Jena flushed with anger, she knew Addison’s type and this little dance between them was getting on her nerves, “You don’t have to worry about me constable. I won’t be here long, and I won’t be causing any trouble.”

  Turning Addison’s face had hardened, he nodded, “The Archway isn’t just some nit infested hostel; it’s a proper inn. Tends to attract…”

  “Gifters.” Jena said flatly. “Well, constable Addison, if you could point me in the right direction…”

  “The sooner you’ll be off,” he raised a hand gesturing to the lane on the far left, “Down that lane, then turn left. It’ll be on your right, you can’t miss it.”

  “Because of the archway.” Jena shrugged.

  Addison nodded; Jena picked her rucksack up again and headed off. She didn’t look back at the constable but if she had, she would have seen him not move until she turned the corner out of his sight. Even then, Addison lingered. He knew he’d have to keep an eye on that one and Jena was cursing herself for drawing down attention that would just make her tasks that much more difficult.

  It didn’t take long before she found Tolland Road and The Archway just as Addison had said. The hostel had a large veranda built in front of a fat grey stone archway. There were only a few people sitting outside and the lane was practically empty.

  Jena looked at the vellum one more time. It didn’t name the property, instead giving a lane number. She squinted, her eyes scanning the building fronts for hint of a number. Finally, she spied it at the bottom corner of every building. The Archway didn’t have a visible number but it was sandwiched in the correct space. This was Reg’s property.

  Stepping onto the veranda, she collected gazes from those sitting there. One a rather fat man draped in garish, billowing clothing. He had before him a large platter of what looked like various vegetables. Giving a cursory glance Jena’s way, he returned to slicing up the food before him. Two women, barely out of their girlhood, sat not very far away from the fat man but were clearly not associated with him. They seemed intent on giggling secrets to each other, which only prompted Jena to role her eyes.

  The lone man at the far end of the deck that worried her. He sat leaning back in his chair with is feet crossed on the table. Smug, young but homely, he wore rather dark leathers that were in a bit too nice of condition for the attitude he was evincing. Jena felt his eyes on her from the moment she moved towards the inn. She didn’t return the gaze but made a mental note.

  Stepping into The Archway the light from the lane died and for a moment Jena was blind but her eyes adjusted quickly enough. The interior was dark due to the deep, red wood that made the tables, chairs, should height room dividers, and bar. There were oil lamps burning giving a soft, yellow glow to everything.

  Unlike the veranda, the interior had a good number of folk in it. Many were dining in groups of three or four. Jena made her way to the bar. She was intercepted before she had taken more than a couple of steps.

  “Ere for da meal?” A mousy girl stood before her speaking with a thick Novosar accent.

  Jena looked passed the girl to the woman behind the bar who seemed more in command, “No, thank you, I’m fine…”

  She tried to step around the girl but the mousy girl simply stepped back in front of Jena, “So a room then?”

  Jena sighed, “Yes, I need…”

  “How many days?”

  “At least…I’m not sure…” Jena was put off. Stumbling for words, she was getting pissed at herself.

  “Indefinite is fine. We’ve rooms for tha. One bed, I assume.”

  “Yes, that’s fine. I do
n’t need anything extravagant. How…”

  “It’s seven a day but if you pay for a week ahead of time it’s half.”

  “Seven aurei? A night!”

  The girl clucked in surprise, “No, silly, obol. A grasp for a day, half an aureus for a week paid in advance.”

  Jena felt suddenly more provincial than the girl. She dug into her hip pocket and fished out an aurei, holding it out to the girl she asked, “That’s with meals?”

  “Course.” The girl took the coin, “A week then.” She smiled at Jena, “I’m Jej.”

  Jena could barely make out what the girl said, it just sounded like a slur of zeds. She shook her head and gestured Jej, “Go on, I’d like to get settled.”

  “Course, sorry.” Jej smiled. As they walked through the inn Jena didn’t catch anyone looking her way. Most seemed engrossed in their conversations or food, it seemed as though she had arrived during a village-wide mealtime. She shrugged; it wasn’t much beyond midday so that made sense. Still, it struck Jena as odd that so many people would be here to have food prepared for them rather than at home.

  What Jena did notice was the woman behind the bar. The moment Jej began to speak to her, the woman behind the bar had been eying Jena. Now her eyes followed Jena as she moved across the room. The look on the barkeep’s face was grim, nearly sour. As Jej turned a corner leading the way up some stairs, Jena paused and looked right at the barkeep. The woman didn’t turn away or break her stare; she pursed her lips and nodded for Jena to follow Jej.

  “We’re in the midst of a rush now, but iffa want something I canna bring id up.” Jej said good-natured.

  “Just some bread, cheese, and…what do you have to drink here? Raki?” Jena asked and Jej nodded. “That then. And I don’t want to be pestered.”

  Jej opened a thick door to a modest room. Jena nodded satisfied dropping her rucksack and beginning to unfasten her pack. She turned to Jej who was standing in the doorway, “Go on then, before your mistress takes it out of your hide.”

  Jej seemed to snap out of some trance, “Right, yeah,” she smiled stepping back and turning around a couple of times not knowing which way she was going to go, “sorry, right. Sorry.” She finally left back down the stairs.

  Jena kicked the door closed and tossed her pack on the squat bed. She arched her back and stretched side to side making her way to the thin window. Peering through the thick, wavy glass of the latticed window, she saw the alley below littered with trash and crossed from above with linen lines.

  She turned the latch and opened the window. There was a bout a twenty-foot drop to the alley below. Leaning back in, Jena looked at the modest hearth and the basket of wood next to it. A fire and a bed tonight would be a pleasant sleep, she thought. If so, it’d be the first in a long time.

  She knelt beside the firewood and searched through its contents until she found what she wanted. Crossing back to the door, she dropped its latch and locked it. Then, bending down, she placed the small piece of wood she had taken in the seam of the jab. She kicked it several times to lodge it tight. Unlatching the door, she pulled and when it wouldn’t give, she was satisfied. Jena re-locked the door, walked over to the bed and plopped herself down. It wasn’t the softest, but it beat any cold ground or tree hammock.

  Suddenly, a wave of fatigue came over her. With her feet propped up on her pack, she let her eyes close and tugged at the blanket to cover her a bit. She was falling asleep. This wasn’t the time for it but she could tell her body was fighting her mind. Like it always does eventually, the body won and Jena drifted off into oblivion.

  It was as if no time had passed. Jena had closed her eyes to the soft light of midday and now opened them to a tawny dusk. Everything felt still, she sat up and began to register the sounds of the street outside. She was cold. Standing closed the window and lit the oil lamp near the hearth. As she bent down to start, a fire there was a sheepish knock at the door.

  “Come.” Jena called.

  “I canna, miss.” Jej said flatly. Jena scowled then realized she had latched and stopped the door. She opened it for Jej, who stood there with a tray of food.

  “It’s been a few hours. Ya never answered when I knocked so I lef’ the tray. It was still ‘ere, I took the liberty of taking it down to the kitchen an’ adding supper.” Jej held out the tray which now had not just what Jena had asked for before but what looked like a shepherd’s pie and a tankard.

  “Ale?” Jena took the tray.

  “Proper cider, Madame Moria’s own.” Jej smiled with pride.

  “Sorry for the bother. Thank you.” Jena gave the girl a weak smile.

  “No worries. Noon crowd has gone so iffaya wanna come down, der’s room aplenty.” Jej smiled. The girl’s face was nearly all cheeks, rose red like apples, and her large eyes made her look remarkably innocent. She was cute, Jena thought looking her over.

  “We’ll see.” Jena nodded as she began to close the door, “When does the bar close up?”

  “Late.” Jej replied, “But I’m usually gone to bed by then.” Jena nodded again, closed the door with her hip, and set the tray down on a wobbly nightstand. She didn’t bother to latch it this time and returned to her fire making.

  Roughly an hour or so later, she made her way down to the common room. The barmaid from before was gone, replaced by a rather tall and sturdy fellow. There were a handful of folk along the bar and random pairings at the tables in the corners of the room. Jena surveyed quickly as she approached the bar, she spied the man she had seen on the veranda skulking alone in the corner. He had spotted her immediately and was watching her movements far too closely for any valid reason.

  “New face.” The barkeep said in pleasant manner.

  “Of a sort,” Jena replied, “Haven’t been to this town in quite a while.”

  “So then, what can I give a prodigal?” A flirtatious smirk crept onto the face of the barkeep.

  “Raki.”

  “Glass or flask?”

  “Flask.”

  The barkeep nodded and turned to retrieve it from the cupboard behind him, “That’ll be a bit more than the lager or bitter we have, which is rather good.”

  “Or Moria’s cider?”

  Presenting Jena with a crystal flask full of the milky looking raki, “We call her ‘madam.’” His tone was more serious but still congenial.

  “Will keep that in mind. How much?”

  “An obol, but you’ll want a tab.” He said and Jena nodded, taking the flask and a glass with her as she turned to find a table.

  Once she found a place, below a window in one of the corners opposite the entrance, the man from the veranda stood up and slowly made his way towards her. Jena didn’t look up but poured herself a glass and withdrew a slender kris from her vest’s inner pocket. Moving deliberately, she set the dagger down on the table making sure the man saw it. The stranger registered a moment’s hesitation but didn’t pause.

  “I don’t think this is the sort of place where you’ll need that.” Addison suddenly sat down across from her. The stranger tried to recovery his nonchalance and continued walking on by the table. Addison eyed him as he passed. He looked at Jena, “That would be a gifter.”

  “I saw him when I arrived. He doesn’t look very posh but his clothes…” Jena spoke in a low tone.

  “Have never been worn more than two days in a row.” Addison set a glass on the table. “May I?” He gestured to the flask. Jena made no objection as a maid she hadn’t seen before sat down a plate of lavash. Addison began at once to tear pieces of the bread. “Feel free,” he said between bits, “I apologize but I wasn’t able to eat much today.”

  “Busy were you?” Jena said cautiously.

  “After a fashion,” Addison smiled as he drank the raki, “It’s not as easy as you think giving directions.”

  Jena smirked, “Who was that?”

  “Heston Peel.”

  “And?” Addison wiped the corners of his mouth with his thumb, clearly reluctant. “Should
I be worried?” She asked.

  He shook his head, “The little prick wouldn’t be much trouble for most one-on-one, but…”

  “He doesn’t often face people one-on-one.”

  “His tendency is to cozy up and then make a move when his so-called friend has their back to him. Fancies himself an assassin.”

  “And you just let him wander about?”

  “There’s enough aurei in his purse to keep his tracks covered and mouths shut. Although, I’ve been looking to…remove…him from the city for a while now.”

  “Well, this was a lovely peak into your local drama.” Jena said dismissive.

  “He’s interested in you, so now it’s your drama too.”

  Jena shook her head, “I don’t see it that way.”

  “That hardly matters, he does.”

  She threw back the contents of her glass, the let out a long sigh, “I don’t need more drama. This is petty and trifling.”

  “I am certain that is what all those Heston has killed thought as well.”

  “So what is it you want exactly? You’re not just telling me this out of the goodness of your heart.”

  Addison shook his head and laughed, “You’ve not been around normal folk for a long time have you?”

  Jena squirmed in her chair. She didn’t like how chummy Addison was. “I’ve got my reasons.”

  “Oh?” Addison leaned back, “Do tell.”

  “You’re not going to stop pestering me until I do, eh?”

  “I’m merely doing my job.”

  A woman came to the table. Not a maid, she walked with too much dignity about her, “If you were doing your job, then you’d have something to tell me.”

  “Madam Moria,” Addison bowed his head, “I was just talking with my new friend.”