Summer of Crows

by Hans Cummings

  Toviah took it. “Yes, please, if you have some. It will save me a trip to the market.” He coughed again.

  Nodding, Tasha took a jar from beneath the counter. Upon opening it, she transferred some of the honey into an empty smaller jar, then handed it to Toviah. “That comes to four pennies.”

  “That’s all?” He placed a half-talon on the counter. “You can keep the extra penny, good lady. For your trouble.” Bowing, his head disappeared below the surface of the counter.

  Tasha beamed. “Why, thank you. If you don’t notice any improvement in the next few days, try steeping an onion in honey overnight, then take two spoonfuls of the syrup.”

  “Indeed? Onion honey?” Toviah squinted at Tasha. Chuckling, he shook his head and waved as he left the shop.

  She returned to the back room to pack a bag. It was time to gather more herbs. She hoped to hold out a few more days, but she hadn’t realized she had so little willow bark. After stuffing a variety of empty bags and tools into her pack, she extinguished the fire in her stove and double-checked all her candles were snuffed too. No sense going out to gather herbs if her shop would be a smoldering pile of sticks upon her return.

  As she closed and locked the door behind her, she became aware of someone quickly approaching her shop. She recognized the wandering mage who recently arrived in town. Her mead-muddled mind tried in vain to remember his name. He’d replaced his ebony robe for a forest green affair with gold trim. “I don’t have time right now, Dragonbone.” She pushed past him.

  “Blade.” Spreading his arms, he spun mid-step and followed her. “It’s Vasco Dragonblade. I was hoping to gain some insight from you. It won’t take long.”

  “Insight? From me?” Tasha shook her head. No one in town came to her for advice unless they had questions about herbs. She kept a brisk pace toward the market.

  “I haven’t had an opportunity to meet many people in town, and I find you more approachable than your knightly friend, as wonderful as she may be. Frankly, she’s a bit intimidating…”

  Tasha narrowed her eyes at Vasco, wondering if he planned to ask her to help him find some angle from which to approach Aveline.

  “It’s irrelevant. What I was hoping to find out from you, or, rather, what I would like, is some advice in regard to what I can do here in this town.” He stumbled alongside Tasha, trying to keep up as she continued on.

  Tasha stopped in her tracks. Vasco passed her before he realized she’d halted. He’s asking me for job advice? She eyed him. The clothes he wore would not be out of place at a party at the Lord Mayor’s residence. His gold-trimmed navy tunic and his boots, though flecked with mud, showed signs of a high polish. Only his cloak, a heavy, green woolen cape trimmed in fur, appeared to have come from a local merchant.

  “Well, what can you do?”

  Vasco shook his head. “Not much. I’m a fairly skilled enchanter, and illusions are my specialty, but I don’t think there’s much call for that sort of thing among potters and farmers. I can write, of course, but I don’t think this town needs a scribe.”

  “You’re well-prepared to be the wizarding son of a noble family, am I right?” Tasha resumed walking, albeit at a slower pace so Vasco could keep up.

  “Indeed.”

  “Then what are you doing in a place like Curton?” To Tasha, Vasco seemed like the exact opposite type of person than one who would visit Curton, let alone make a home here.

  “It’s… a long story.”

  Tasha detected sadness and perhaps a bit of frustration in Vasco’s hesitation. “Look, I have to leave town for a bit, but I do sympathize with your plight. I’m an outsider, too, and finding a niche for myself was wholly due to luck. Both apothecaries in town were run by old men and women who didn’t want to do the work anymore. I helped them gather herbs for a year or so, then took over for the whole town. When I return, perhaps we can discuss your options.”

  Tasha turned the corner into the market, searching for the preserved food stalls. She relied on hard cheeses, breads, and cured sausages to sustain her when going into the wilderness for several days. Vasco still stood by her side.

  “Leaving town? Is it something I can help with?”

  Resisting the urge to sigh, Tasha managed a huff and faced Vasco, shaking her head. “I’m just going to gather more reagents; my stocks are running low.”

  Smiling, Vasco nodded. “I can help with that. I was never good at mixing potions, but I do know the beneficial plants from the toxic ones.”

  “I always go alone.” Tasha found the solitude on her gathering trips to be relaxing. She looked forward to organizing her thoughts and planning for the rest of the year, or until the next time she needed to restock.

  “I have a horse. Pepper and I can carry far more than you can alone.”

  That gave Tasha pause. A horse would make things easier, but it would mean spending several days alone in the wilderness with this strange man. Tasha fingered the talisman around her throat, which allowed her to focus on arcane energies and bend them to her will. Despite turning more toward the mysticism of Gaia and Cybele these days, she still found use for her arcane focus now and again.

  “We can carry more, and two of us would be more formidable should any bandits decide to prey upon us. If we cannot defeat them, then Pepper can spirit us away much more quickly than we could run.”

  Tasha held up her hand. “Fine, fine. Get your horse. I will buy provisions, then inform Lady Aveline where we’re going. Meet me at Miners’ Gate in two hours.”

  Cocking his head, Vasco narrowed his eyes. “Do you always tell your lady knight your whereabouts?”

  “Only when I’m leaving town with a strange man.”

  Chapter 7

  “I’m not comfortable with you letting him tag along. Are you sure this is a good idea?” Aveline looked past Tasha at Vasco. Leaning on his staff, he watched people shop in the market square, his head swiveling to follow every young woman who passed. His horse, a blue roan mare Tasha said was called Pepper, stomped and snorted, yanking at the reins Vasco held.

  “No.” Tasha tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Want to come with? Help me keep an eye on him?”

  Aveline continued eyeing Vasco. To his credit, he kept a respectful distance as the women spoke. “As much as I would love to leave the city to pick flowers with you, I have a city watch to run. Which way are you headed?”

  Murmuring greetings to Tasha and Aveline, a family passed them. The sorceress bowed her head in acknowledgment before returning her attention to Aveline. “I was thinking of following the river south a bit, into the hills.”

  “What about that drak clan? The Flametenders? Aren’t they hatching a brood soon?”

  “Mmm.” Tasha nodded. “I’m running low on herbs I’ll need for them too. I should be back in time.”

  “All right. Mind keeping to the west bank, away from the mountains? Dwennon says there was a band of draks about a day behind them. Maybe see what they’re up to? They might be refugees, traders, I don’t know… maybe not.” Aveline trusted Tasha would not take unnecessary risks if the draks proved unfriendly. Otherwise, Tasha would point them in the right direction for whatever they sought.

  “Sure, anything I can do to help.” She put her hand on Aveline’s shoulder. “Plus, it keeps me away from the area you think the girl was taken, right?”

  Aveline nodded. “You know me well.” She clasped Tasha’s hand. “Be careful. I know you can take care of yourself, but we know nothing about this man.”

  “If he tries anything, I’ll leave him in a ditch.” Tasha glanced over her shoulder at him. “Until then, he’s offered to help haul reagents. I should be able to gather enough to last through the summer, maybe more. I’ve been depleting my stocks more rapidly lately.”

  “Things getting worse?” Aveline sought to corroborate Mother Anya’s report.

  “More sickness, and the midwives have been buying all my crampbark, skullcap, and chamomile.” Tasha sighed. “I can�
�t keep up.”

  “Hard times are good for business, eh?”

  “That’s one way to look at it.” Tasha pulled Aveline into a hug. “I’ll be back in a few days.”

  “If you run into trouble, you know how to reach me.”

  Nodding, Tasha gripped the talisman around her neck. Aveline watched as Tasha joined Vasco and the pair left together. Once they were out of sight, Aveline approached the watch sergeant in charge of Miners’ Gate. The woman snapped to attention, saluting when Aveline caught her eye.

  “Knight-Captain Aveline.” The sergeant held her salute until her commander returned it. “Nothing to report, m’lady.”

  “That’s fine, Sergeant…?”

  “Borodin. Niska Borodin, m’lady.”

  Beneath her city-watch tunic, Sergeant Borodin’s ill-fitting mail showed signs of rust and repeated repair, a sure sign the young woman hailed from one of Curton’s less affluent families. Aveline noted the cracked wooden hilt of the guard’s sword.

  “Any news from the farms or other travelers?” Aveline found folk passing through and complaining to the watch as they entered the city a reliable source of news from the surrounding countryside.

  “Nothing out of the ordinary, m’lady. They’d just been complaining about taxes, the weather, and the mudders.”

  Despite the overcast sky, the temperature remained comfortable. Aveline glanced at passersby. “What’s to complain about? It’s not raining. What of the mudders? Causing trouble?”

  Shaking her head, Sergeant Borodin laughed. “Nah, they’re complaining about how mudders are too cheap to buy anything good. And some folk always complain about the weather: too hot, too cold, too sunny, too rainy, too dry, too windy. The usual.”

  “I see. Carry on, then.” Aveline turned away from Miners’ Gate, resuming her morning rounds. Waiting for the patrols searching the countryside for Innya taxed her patience, and throwing herself into her normal routine did little to stave off frustration. Aveline paused for a moment outside a bakery, inhaling the aroma of freshly baked pastries and bread. A grin crept onto her face as she remembered her mother’s baking, a daily ritual until her father dragged them all on that fateful journey south that ended with Aveline orphaned, alone on the streets of Curton. Her smile faded.

  “Is there something you need, Lady Aveline?”

  Upon the voice shaking the knight-captain from her memory, she opened her eyes. Widow Marya stood before her, cradling a basket of loaves wrapped in blankets. Her stringy blonde hair fluttered in the cool morning breeze. She stared at Aveline with narrowed, brown eyes.

  “Just enjoying the smell of fresh-baked bread.” Seeing Marya always pained Aveline’s heart. “I’ll be on my way.”

  Several years prior, Aveline executed Marya’s husband after Piotr smothered his mother. The woman suffered an ailment from which a traveling bonelord had been unable to release her, so Piotr the Smith took it upon himself to ease her suffering. Unfortunately, the law did not recognize his act as one of mercy, and Aveline had been bound by law to administer his sentence. She never put much stock in the abilities of bonelords to enter a spiritual realm with those on death’s door to ease their passing. The situation with Piotr did not improve her opinion on the matter.

  After bowing to Marya, she resumed her patrol, ignoring the sound of the woman spitting on her footsteps as she departed. She didn’t blame the widow for her attitude. Meting the execution was Aveline’s duty, rightfully ordered by the magistrate after Piotr’s trial. After that day, she favored the mace she had trained on. Something about that blade no longer sat right with her, particularly since Piotr had forged the sword for her in honor of her appointment to Captain of the City Watch.

  Aveline’s route followed Zeman’s Road, just inside the city wall. Save for the section running through the affluent homes of Hillside, the road bore ruts and mudholes, evidence of the noble council’s lack of interest in maintaining the parts of the city they neither lived in, nor frequented. A foul stench, exacerbated by the lack of cleansing rain during the past few weeks, wafted from gutters running alongside the street. Wrinkling her nose at the odor, she scanned the sky in vain for the relief dark clouds would bring.

  With only wisps of white tracking across the blue sky, the promise of rain in the near future proved a fleeting hope. Zeman’s Road followed the curve of the city wall, winding to Drakton, the northern hill. While they were not founders of Curton, drak clans that had emigrated to the city shortly after the mines depleted settled peacefully and caused far less trouble than unhappy mudders.

  Giggling drak hatchlings darted across the street, splashing through puddles. Aveline stopped to watch them play, offering a smile and a nod to the parents who beckoned their children to come in off the street. As she resumed her patrol, a husky voice called after her.

  A drak with scales the color of summer grain hobbled up to her. The dull sheen of her scales and her bent posture marked the drak as an elder of her clan. She carried a bundle of scrolls under her arm. “Lady Aveline, have you seen the herbalist?”

  “Tasha?”

  “She’s not at her shop. Do you know where she is?”

  “Her stocks were running low.” Aveline eyed a pair of humans staggering past, their clothes covered in dried mud and filth. She kept her gaze fixed on them as they stumbled down the street. “She went out to gather more herbs.”

  The drak shifted the bundle she carried. “She’ll be back soon?”

  “A few days, I think. Maybe a week.”

  The humans Aveline had been watching approached a building abutting the city wall. After conferring among themselves, they knocked on the door. They entered the building after someone opened the door, and she returned her attention to the drak.

  “Well, that won’t do at all…”

  “There are other herbalists in town. What about Tal… Tar…” Chewing her lip. Aveline failed to recall the man’s name.

  “No, no. These papers”—the drak held up her scrolls—“they’ve been bequeathed to Tasha. We leave on the morrow…”

  “Bequeathed? By whom?”

  “My mate, Abarron. He’d been meaning to talk to her, but he died last week.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry for your loss.” Aveline put her hand on the drak’s shoulder. Tasha knew more of the draks in town than she did, but Aveline appreciated the lack of real troublemakers among their population compared to the rough-and tumble mudders. That most of drak holidays and observances involved introspection rather than drinking helped.

  The drak held the scrolls toward Aveline. “Can you take them and give them to Tasha for me? My family can’t delay, and I know you’re her friend.”

  Aveline took the parchment rolls from the drak. “What are they… and who are you? I’m sorry, but I don’t know your name.”

  “I am Orah. Dunscale clan.” Pressing her hand against her chest, she bowed. “Abarron promised to teach her all he knew about the mysticism of Gaia and Cybele. When he fell ill and couldn’t meet with her as often as he liked, he wrote it down.”

  Aveline nodded, aware of Tasha’s interest in learning more on the subject, a way of honoring her fallen lover and distancing herself from the arcane studies of her youth. Only within the past three or four years had Tasha spoken openly of wanting to move on and change the focus of her life.

  “I will see to it she gets these just as soon as she returns, Orah. You have my word.”

  The drak widow bowed, her tail stretching behind her for balance. “Thank you, Lady Aveline. May you find bounty in this life.”

  After steadying herself upon rising from her bow, Orah hobbled up the street. Aveline tucked the bundle under her arm. Clasping the hilt of her mace for security, she resumed her patrol.

  * * *

  “Would you really leave me in a ditch?” Vasco chuckled as he led Pepper off the road. Tasha hoped he hadn’t eavesdropped and would have waited longer than the first few minutes after leaving town before striking up a conversation.
<
br />   She gripped the talisman at her neck. “I don’t know you. If you intend to harm me while we’re out here, it will not go well for you.”

  “No? I’m a university-trained enchanter. You are… an herbalist?” Vasco’s voice betrayed his mirth, although Tasha could not see his expression. “I seek only to assist you; I would never harm you. I left Maritropa to see the world and expand my experiences, not to profit from others’ misfortunes.”

  “I was not always so.” Stopping, Tasha faced Vasco. “I trained in evocation with the Arcane University before I settled here.”

  “Did you?” Furrowing his brow, Vasco cocked his head.

  Tasha ignored his incredulous tone, stopping to examine some brown, ear-shaped mushrooms growing on a rotting stump. She gathered them, stowing them in one of her pouches. Dual-purpose mushrooms, usable both for remedies and dinner recipes, were among her favorite finds in the wilderness.

  Throughout the day, Tasha scanned the underbrush for medicinal plants while deflecting Vasco’s personal questions. After a few hours, he restricted his conversation to questions germane to their herb gathering. Between the road and the river, few suitable plants grew, but Tasha managed to fill one of her pouches by the time the midday sun burned away the morning dew.

  Afternoon gathering, as they worked their way south along the west bank of the Copper Run River, proved more fruitful. Tasha filled half the sacks she brought by the time the sun dipped below the horizon. Before they were left with only the light of the waxing Queen and waning King, Tasha led Vasco and Pepper to a grotto on the riverbank she had used as a shelter during previous excursions.

  “We can make camp here.” Tasha helped Vasco secure the mare to a tree before removing her saddle.

  “How much longer will we be out here?” Vasco fished a handful of oats from one of his saddlebags, then held out his hand to Pepper. The dappled mare slobbered on him, scarfing the tasty treat.

  “A few more days, I think. There’s a spot not far from here where dozens of herbs grow. I used to think it was someone’s garden, long abandoned, but I haven’t found any evidence of a home.”