Chapter 3: Chapter Two

They walked through the sparse forest for two days, avoiding tilled farmland and grazing pastures, stopping only at noon to eat and full dark to rest. The pace was familiar to them, but Del still felt relieved when they saw the town lights on the third day. They found a hollow off the road to store their things and changed into farmer's garb again, then joined the meager evening traffic separately. The scattered travelers paid little mind to them. Del watched Maug enter the town well before her, no doubt in search of a card game to line his pockets before crossing the border. The two tried to explore separately in towns and cities. People seldom looked twice at a lone wanderer, but a pair was easier to recall. And more often than not, when they left, at least one person was trying to recall them.

She took her time reaching the city entrance. Just another weary farm hand looking for a tavern. The lone guard waved her along without more than a glance in her general direction.

The town was even smaller than the last; narrow dirt roads lined with houses of wood and thatch. This close to the border, it wasn’t unusual to see an Aurelian merchant company or two, but even the poorest Aurelia would ride through the night to avoid the squalor of a town that didn’t have even one stone house or tiled roof.

Del headed to the local general trader, who was also the local butcher and tanner, according to the signs above his door. The stink of the tanning vats permeated the air when she entered. A tall, balding man stood behind the counter, lost in thought. He had the look of someone recently ill, his skin grayish and hanging loosely. She had to clear her throat twice before he noticed her.

“What?” he asked curtly.

“I need dried meat, bread, cheese, and wheat cake if you have it.”

“Ain’t got no wheat cake and no meat for outsiders.”

“No meat? I’m not that much of an outsider,” she plucked at the rough fabric of her Giduran farm dress.

“You ain’t from this town girl, and there’s no extra meat for outsiders.”

Del looked around the shop. Many of the shelves were bare. A butcher at evening should be busy with dinner orders even in a town this small. She considered his sickly appearance again.

“Did something happen here? A sickness?” she asked.

“That’s none of your concern. Here,” he placed a package wrapped in brown paper on the counter, “cheese and bread. If there’s nothin’ else…”

“Do you have herbs here?”

“No.” He said, then nodded to the door. “Next street over.”

Del thanked him, paid, and left. The storekeeper and his shop had given her a bad feeling. She cut across an alley between houses and turned up the next street, looking for the herb seller. There were only a handful of people out in the fading light. They all looked as weary as the butcher. None of them met her eye.

She almost walked past the little shop. The sign out front had faded to where it was difficult to discern its original message. But the window was full of tall plants in clay pots and drying herbs. The heavy door squealed when she opened it and the smell of lavender and mint enveloped her. A woman sat at a heavy table working a mortar and pestle.

“Are you closed, ma'am?” she asked.

The woman looked up from her work. Her brown eyes were hard but bright and she looked healthier than the other townsfolk, if careworn. She stared long enough that Del fidgeted, but eventually smiled and waved her in.

“Now, what would a pretty Aurelian be doing in our back road town?” The woman asked.

Del stopped with the door still half open, her eyes wide. “I’m no Aurelian,” she forced out a small laugh and gestured at her clothes. “An Aurelian would never wear such.”

The woman waved a hand at her. “Clothes don’t make a person, and I know an Aurelian when I see one.” She shrugged. "Although you're right, I've never seen one who would willingly wear such a poor dress. No matter. I will keep your ruse if you wish, but please shut my door before the beetles get in.”

Del shut the door but didn’t move from the entryway. She felt trapped and exposed. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself. Running out of the herbalists into the night like a mad woman was not the best way to avoid notice.

“Um … I was looking for some herbs,” she said.

“Well, yes. I figured it was that or you are the worst robber in Gidura.” Her smile deepened the lines around her eyes. “My name is Helas, and I do indeed trade in herbs and healing. Was there anything in particular you were looking for?”

“Healing root and a few poultices. And Cannis. Any kind will be fine.”

“Well, the healing root I can do. It grows hardy in the forests outside of town, for now at least. And I have a few useful poultices a traveler might be interested in.” She sighed, “but you’d be lucky to find a bit of Cannis anywhere in this town. Foodstuff has been sparse and getting thinner by the day.”

Del frowned. Every decent herbalist kept Cannis, most homes even had a little in store for lean times. It tasted awful but, when brewed properly, could make a drink hearty enough to replace a meal. If she didn’t know better, she'd think brigands had hit the little town. Not unheard of, but where were the signs of damage? And no brigand band was big enough to carry off every bit of meat in a town this size.

“Did something happen here?” Del asked again.

“Nothing and everything,” the woman answered, “livestock won’t breed or have stillbirths. Most crops have the wilt. Half the wells have gone dry.” Helas shrugged. “Bad seasons happen, but this is our third and the worst of the lot. If this keeps up, there won’t be a town here to see the next one.”

“Is it a sickness?”

“The people are still healthy as ever, if hungry and worried. No, it’s the land I think is sick.”

Del collected what the herbalist could offer and left as quickly as she politely could. Night had fallen when she found the main street again. Lanterns lit the path, and the sounds of harps and drums drifted to the street from the tavern and inn. It would have been a peaceful sight if she hadn’t been so on edge. Tafa hooted from her pack. She had never been able to hunt because of her deformed wings, but the urge to be active at night was still strong with the little creature.

“In a bit, little one. I’ll find us a quiet place soon.”

She found Maug in the tavern as expected. He was playing dice with a few sour-faced men by a small fire pit. Del took a table in the shadows and waited for him to finish his round.

The men and women at the other tables had the same look as the rest of the town; gray and anxious. Most were intent on their mugs or bowls of stew, but a few eyed her warily from behind their cups. Even with her pale skin well tanned from travel, her black hair under a hat, and poor farm clothes, the looks made her nervous. She couldn’t help but remember the herb woman’s denouncement of her ruse. When Maug finally broke from his game and went to the bar to order, she slipped from her seat to join him. Del ordered a bowl of whatever they had on the fire from the fat barman to be rid of him.

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“I think we should leave here,” she said quietly to Maug.

“Tonight?” He looked surprised. “I’ve already rented a room. They are nice; with a fire and a bed and a roof.”

“Yes, tonight. There is something wrong in this town.” She could see him thinking it over while he drank his ale. They had learned to trust their instincts about things, but they had also learned sleeping in the hedgerows was cold, unpleasant business.

“Aye,” he nodded, “I’ve seen it too and heard the talk. Some sickness on the land, they say. And if it is, it’s as likely to be out there,” he waved vaguely to the door, “then in our beds. It’s strange but not ‘run for the hills and sleep in the damp’ strange. Have some food and ale, and get a room. We can be off at first light.” He left with a full mug to rejoin his game.

Del considered insisting. Maug would go, she knew, and complain about it for the next week. But he was most likely right and beds might be scarce once they left the road again. She didn’t enjoy sleeping on the ground any more than he did.

The barman’s name was Roose, and he didn’t care to know her’s which suited her fine. He brought her a bowl of white ‘stew’ thick with carrots and greens and not one piece of meat and her own mug of rich brown ale. When she was done, he showed her to a small room near the top of the inn with low-slung ceilings, cold wash water, and a lumpy wool-stuffed mattress.

Tafa scrambled from her pouch when she laid it by the door and sniffed the air hopefully.

“No meat tonight, little one.” Del opened her pack and tossed a few pieces of bread on the floor. The little animal hooted dolefully at her. “We’re leaving first thing tomorrow and we’ll do some hunting and I’ll give you all the choice bits. Promise.” Tafa was a Komarak from Bellon Forest. More often called forest rats by the Velli elves that lived there. They were scavengers that would eat just about anything. Del’d found Tafa young, half-starved, and rejected because of her malformed wings that would never allow her to fly from tree to tree like her kin. Now her deformed wings fluttered in agitation as she tore moodily at the bread on the floor. She had become used to the finer things in the years since she left Bellon.

The dream came almost as soon as Del closed her eyes. Heavy darkness enveloped her and in the black, she could hear voices. She called out weakly, but no one answered. While a face loomed above her, its features vague and dim and frightening, she struggled fruitlessly. She tried to turn or push the face away, but the darkness was too thick.

“Wake up, child.” The faceless man said. The voice was familiar, but the recognition slipped away before she could form the thoughts.

“Who are you?” She sounded small and frightened, and she could feel the man’s disappointment pushing down on her.

“You know who I am. You must wake up. Look. See. Remember.” The last word grew louder and louder until she thought it might spit her head. In the darkness, shapes took form. Men and women dressed in dark colors with beads in their hair all looking at a handsome man with his head held high and his eyes closed. The people pleaded with him wordlessly. Then the man turned his face to her, and she saw his eyes were only bloody, weeping holes. Blood oozed down his cheeks and stained his high satin collar. He pointed to her and smiled.

Del jerked upright in bed, sending Tafa tumbling to the floor.

“I’m sorry, little one.” She reached down but was greeted with a growl. “Hey, I said sorry.”

Pale sunlight streamed through the shudders of her little attic room. Past daybreak then and past time to be gone. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and tried to shake the dream from her mind. After a quick wash, she placed a still-grumbling Tafa in her pack.

The common room was nearly deserted when she entered. A couple of rough-looking villagers took up a table in one corner and by the fire pit, Maug sat dipping a biscuit in white gravy. Del waved for her own plate and took a seat at the bar.

She ate quickly, washing down the biscuits with more ale (the white gravy turned out to be last night's stew), and headed for the door, hoping Maug would take the hint. But it was the two villagers that followed her onto the street.

“Ain’t seen you round before,” the bigger one said when she turned to face them. He had more brown teeth than white. “What farm you work on?”

“I go here and there.”

“Ain’t never seen a hand with enough coin to rent a room, either.”

“Maybe the people you know are bad with money?”

“Nah, I think you been stealin’. Ain’t that right, Aref?” The smaller man with too little hair and too much chin nodded eagerly. “And thieves get the knife in these parts.” Aref nodded happily again. “Lucky I got a knife right here.” He raised his dagger to show her.

“And I’m sure you honest, upstanding gentlemen are here to save some farmers' goods and return them once I’m dead.”

The big man squinted at her suspiciously. “No, we want your coin,” he said slowly, as if she was the one that missed the point.

“Oh, I see. Well, I certainly can’t outwit you two, so I’ll just have to hand it over. It just so happens I still have a fine piece that I pilfered. Come into the alley here and I’ll hand it over.”

“I ain’t going nowhere. How about you just hand it over here?”

Del lowered her voice and looked around. A few villagers were emerging from their homes, but none had taken notice of them. She lowered her voice all the same.

“Out here? Where everyone can see? I’ve already admitted to the theft. What if someone sees me handing this to you and thinks you're in on it?”

Aref grunted, “and we don’t want nobody seein’ us knife her.” He added helpfully. Del nodded solemnly in agreement.

The big man narrowed his eyes as he looked from Del to his friend. “Fine, but don’t think about causing a fuss.”

“When you rob me or when you knife me?” Del asked flatly. He grabbed her by the arm and shoved her toward the mouth of the alley.

“Neither.”

The alley ran between the inn and a windowless wood building that could have been just about anything. It was still dark and smelled of night pots and rotten food. She slipped the heavy ring from her finger and held it before her.

“Here it is. It’s magic too. It will fit any finger perfectly, no matter the size. Try it.” Even in the dimness, the pale green stone shone. Aref tried to grab the ring, but the other man shoved him to the ground and swiftly snatched it, placing it on his chubby finger and admiring it contentedly. While he did, Del slid a dagger out of her belt and slit Aref’s throat while he was still struggling to get to his feet. She rolled the body closer to the wall of the inn so it wouldn’t be easily noticed and then turned to take care of the big man, only to find him staring at her stupidly. Del staggered back in surprise.

“You killed him,” he said. “And this ring doesn’t fit.” He blinked and looked down at the ring again before falling over dead.

“Was it me or did that take a bit longer than usual?” Maug stepped away from the wall, tucking his own dagger back into the folds of his coat, and surveyed the dead men. “Ugh, these two stink too bad to pilfer.”

“Then don’t, we have to go.” Del retrieved her ring and crept to the edge of the alley. More people were walking in the streets now and the sun was nearly over the hills. It would be difficult to leave town without being noticed.

“You don’t plan on walking through town, do you?” She turned to find Maug halfway up the wall of the building beside the inn, smirking down at her. She rolled her eyes, but followed.

It didn’t take them long to find their way to the edge of town, moving unseen from roof to rafter, although Maug did almost fall through a thatched roof near the end. The sun was just clearing the hills when they found their hidden things and changed into their travel leathers again. They set off north through the forest in silence only broken from time to time by Tafa hooting at bright red birds and black squirrels. It wasn’t until they’d finished their midday meal that Maug broke the reprieve.

“So … do you think the magic on that ring could, I don’t know, wear out?”

“No, I don’t,” Del replied.

“Or get used up or something?”

“No.”

“Because it really did take longer…”

“The magic doesn’t wear off,” Del said it with more confidence than she felt. The delay bothered her as well. She couldn't make sense of it.

“I know it’s Velli, but maybe the one you stole it from wasn’t a particularly good mage?”

“The ring is fine, Maug,” she threw down her last bit of dried meat for Tafa, “let's just get to the border. At least they have decent food in Aurelia.”