Book 5: Chapter Eight

“Miss Leena,” Varsin Senshall said, ushering her into his office, “I wasn’t expecting you so soon after your last visit. Has Lady Ellerie already figured out when you’ll need the first load of coal transported? I’ve been thinking Matagor may be the best option for regular deliveries. It won’t sell for as much there as it would in Tyrsall, but the distance is shorter. It should more than make up for the difference.”

“The mines aren’t operating yet,” Leena said. “We’re still looking for someone to handle that. I came here with a deal of my own. Her Imperial Majesty has allowed me to offer my services to the Senshall Trading Company—for a brief trial, and under strict conditions.”

Varsin’s eyes widened. “Ahh, I see. Please, take a seat.” He sat down across from her. “What would these conditions be, exactly?”

“I’ll come to Tyrsall once per week—to your home, not here—and I’ll pick up outgoing messages. They have to fit in a small shoulder satchel and be intended for Sanvara City, Four Roads, or our keep in the free lands. Then, during that week, I’ll visit each of those locations and deliver the messages, and pick up any that are being sent back here or to the other destinations. I hope to add Aencyr in Bancyra as well, but I’m not certain yet.”

Varsin looked thoughtful. “You’d go to our operations in Sanvara City and Aencyr?”

“No. I’ll go to the Sanvara City Travelers’ Post, which will send a courier to deliver the messages to your office in the city for no additional cost. If the messages need to go elsewhere, that’ll be up to your people down there. I don’t know yet what the situation will be in Aencyr, but I expect it to be similar.”

“It would certainly be helpful if we could correspond with Sanvar so quickly, but why those destinations only?”

“It’s all I have time for,” Leena said. That wasn’t entirely true, but if she was going to build up a larger network, she didn’t want to be dependent on a single trading house. She hadn’t worked out a solution yet, but she could partner with Senshall as an experiment while she looked for other options in Circle Bay, Matagor, and elsewhere around the north.

“You should really be talking to my father. He’s in charge of our operations in southern Aravor, including Sanvar.”

Leena didn’t know anything about the elder Senshall other than a few hints Varsin had let slip.

“I’m only supposed to deal with people I already know,” she said. “You can tell your father about it if you want, and let him take part, but I won’t be meeting with him.”

Varsin hid a small smile. “As you wish.” Then his look turned thoughtful. “We’ll rarely have a full satchel of messages for just those three destinations. Can I sell the extra space?”

“No, the offer is for the Senshall Trading Company alone, but you can include small packages if you have room for them.”

“You mean like trade goods? Or coin?”

“Whatever you want, as long as it fits in the satchel and is light enough for me to carry.”

“Well, that could make things … interesting. I’ll have to think about what that might mean, maybe talk to some people.”

“Please don’t tell anyone outside your family—or Marco, since he already knows about me. I’m only allowed to do this if you can guarantee my safety.” She passed him a copper piece. “This will help with that. Show me the room you’d like to use, and then if you and the coin are both in that room at the day and time we agree on, I’ll come. If there’s any sort of problem, just make sure that either you or the coin aren’t in the room at that time.”

There was one more layer of security Varsin didn’t need to know about. Chaaya had memorized the coin’s signature, and before Leena Traveled to Tyrsall, Chaaya would do a Seeing on the room, and then the rest of the house, to make sure the family wasn’t being coerced into letting Leena believe it was safe to arrive.

Varsin examined the copper piece as if wondering how it worked, but he didn’t ask.

Instead, he said, “We haven’t discussed the price yet. Just how much is this going to cost me?”

Leena gave him a smile of her own.

#

“It’s not going to hold, Miss,” Fenton said. He was in charge of the carpenters and builders who’d made the journey to the keep. “It’s too heavy.”

“It only needs to last a few more minutes,” Ellerie said. “Help me with the sand and the lime now, while your men are finishing up.” The other builders were hauling the last of the heavy blocks up the side of the ravine. It had taken two days to dig all the fallen stone out of the riverbed and carry the smaller pieces up by hand. For the larger pieces, they’d cut two makeshift stairways into the steep bank and smoothed out the slope between them. Then they’d placed the stone blocks, one at a time, on a length of burlap which they bundled up and tied at the top with lengths of rope. With two men on each set of stairs, they’d dragged the heavy block between them up the bank of the ravine.

Ellerie grabbed the bucket of quicklime, pointing Fenton to the matching bucket of sand.

“I don’t understand what this is supposed to do,” he said, hefting it. “It won’t make enough mortar to hold everything together.”

“We’re not making mortar,” she told him. “This is just part of the spell.” The amounts were small enough to be almost symbolic rather than serving any actual purpose, but they had to do something or they wouldn’t be necessary. Luckily, sand and lime were much cheaper than the components used in the metal-shaping spells.

She carefully made her way out onto the broken section of the bridge, which was now spanned by a wooden frame the carpenters had constructed in roughly the same shape as the underside of the missing arch. The builders had piled the fallen stone onto the frame, but even after bracing the whole thing with heavy logs to keep it stable, the structure creaked alarmingly from the weight it was supporting.

Ellerie poured the quicklime powder into a crevice between several stone blocks to ensure it wouldn’t blow away in the wind, then handed her empty bucket to Fenton, who’d remained on the bridge rather than adding his weight to the shaky platform. She took his bucket in exchange and added the sand on top of the lime.

Returning to the intact part of the bridge, she set the bucket out of the way. “I’m ready.”

Fenton nodded and turned to his crew, who’d reached the top of the ravine. “Hurry it up there, boys!” he shouted.

If that caused them to move any faster, Ellerie couldn’t see it, but it didn’t take them long them to reach the bridge. As they drew even with her near the broken edge, they braced their feet and then pulled the ropes toward them, hand over hand, shortening the distance between themselves and the stone block. Fenton helped them untie the knots and uncover it.

“Is this close enough?” he asked. “I’m not sure the frame will take it if we pile it on with the rest.”

“It’s got to be touching before I start the spell,” Ellerie said.

He frowned but nodded. “Slide it over, lads.”

There was only enough room for three of his men to help push, and they had to get down on their knees to get a good grip, but slowly, the heavy block slid up to and over the broken edge of the bridge, slamming down onto the pile of loose stone. A splintering sound came from the wooden frame below and the whole structure dropped two inches before holding steady. The builders made startled exclamations and quickly backed away. Ellerie took their place, kneeling down so she could reach the pile. She began murmuring the words to the mixing spell.

As she spoke, the stone gradually turned into a thick sludge, as if it had melted without any heat. Then the sand and lime swirled into the mixture, causing the sludge to dissolve further. The final result was more fluid, though still grainy. The frame wasn’t solid enough to keep the liquid from flowing out through the cracks and gaps, but Ellerie could force it to stay in place.

The tricky part happened as she moved from one spell to the next. With the completion of the mixing spell, her control over the mixture would gradually fade and wouldn’t be renewed until she was partway through the shaping spell. Without a more solid mould to hold everything in place, she couldn’t take a break between spells.

She began the shaping spell immediately, picturing in her mind how she wanted the final structure to appear. Since the frame supported most of the weight and provided the approximate shape she would need, she focused her attention on the finer details, ensuring the stone was distributed smoothly and evenly, that it matched the dimensions of the other arches, and that the upper surface of the new section would be at the same height as the original stonework it abutted. The workers murmured in amazement as it took form, even though they’d known, in general terms, what she was attempting.

Ellerie had tested the stone-shaping spells with Hildra enough to make sure they worked, and she’d made a few small statuettes over the past weeks for practice, but this was the first time she’d tried stone-shaping for real. It was both easier and harder than metal-shaping. She was able to manipulate larger amounts of material with ease, but stone didn’t lend itself to the fine-grained control she could manage with metal.

As she neared the end of the spell, she forced the material into the final form she wanted, then held it there as it hardened in place. The bridge was now complete, spanning the entire river, though the shaped stone didn’t quite match the rest of it. Instead of blocks held together with mortar and careful engineering, the shaped section was one solid piece.

According to the shaping book, the new section would be at least as strong as the rest of the bridge, but there was no way to know for sure until they tried it. To improve the chances, Ellerie prepared a warding spell she’d gotten from Hildra, one designed to strengthen stonework. As she began casting, she decided to include the entire bridge, not just the rebuilt section. If one part had collapsed, the rest could as well, and there was no sense in tempting fate. The warding spell didn’t take as long to cast as the other two, but when it was over, she had to close her eyes and take deep breaths. The three spells together had required more power than she’d ever used before.

“Miss?” Fenton asked. “Are you all right?”

She opened her eyes and pushed herself to her feet. “Just tired, Mr. Fenton. Thank you.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” he said, staring at what she’d done. “It would have taken a crew of stonemasons an entire week to do that.”

“Let’s hope it worked,” she said. “I’ll need to borrow two of your men to help load wagons so we can try it out. The others can get started building the crane. We’ll need it soon. If the bridge holds, we’ll be working on the fortress wall next.”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

#

Nedley stumbled as he appeared in the wheelwright’s shop in Four Roads. His guts heaved and the room seemed to be spinning. He had to drop to his knees to keep from falling over.

“Nedley, are you all right?” Leena’s voice came from somewhere above him.

He screwed his eyes tightly shut and waited as his stomach calmed. Finally, he felt it was safe to stand up.

“I think so,” he said. “I just got dizzy. Did that happen to anyone else?”

“Just Ditte, and only a little bit. She said it felt funny, and then she spun in circles a few times to keep it going. No one else has mentioned anything unusual.”

“Oh,” he said, flushing. Why did he have to be the only one to get sick from Traveling? Was this how Corec had felt on the ship?

“Do you need anything before I go?” Leena asked.

Nedley dropped his travel pack on a table and searched through it to make sure he’d brought the letter. “No, I have everything.”

“Then I’ll drop by in two days to see how things are going,” Leena said, then disappeared.

Nedley looked around the empty shop. They’d taken the last of their things along with the supply caravan, so only bits of scrap were left over. It felt odd to be there alone. It felt odd to be anywhere alone. He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.

But he had a job to do. First up was a visit to the Three Orders chapter house.

His armor—which he’d worn for the trip rather than carrying—wouldn’t be appropriate, so he stripped it off, then took a moment to stretch. The plate armor was getting tight around his shoulders and would soon start leaving a gap at his waist if he got any taller, but he hadn’t told anyone yet. Corec only had silversteel plate in small and very large sizes, with nothing in between. There was no way Nedley would be able to fit into one of the larger suits, and he didn’t want to give up what he had.

After working out the kinks in his back, he put on the shopkeeper’s suit and long coat he’d bought the last time he’d been in town. It was all the tailor had been able to manage on short notice, but that was probably for the best. Anything fancier and he’d have been putting on airs. He strapped on his sword belt, grabbed the letter from his pack, and left the shop, resetting Ellerie’s mage lock on the door. He didn’t want anyone stealing his armor while he was away.

At the chapter house, a young girl showed him to Mother Yewen’s office. The old woman was sitting in a padded chair near a window, reading through a stack of papers. She eyed his clothing and sword, but sent the girl away before speaking to him.

“You look familiar,” she said. “You were with Sister Treya’s group.”

“Yes, Miss—I mean, yes, Mother Yewen. My name is Nedley. Miss Treya sent this for you.” He handed over the letter.

She read through it, her eyebrows raising at one point. “She wants me to give you the coin from the town council.”

“Yes, Miss. I’m supposed to buy supplies and hire more men.” Whatever he didn’t need, Leena would take back for safekeeping so he didn’t have to watch over it on the road.

“Very well.” Yewen rose from her chair and opened a locked cabinet behind her desk, taking out a coin pouch. She handed it over. “A hundred fifty gold,” she said. “It should have been more, but Four Roads spent over a thousand taking care of the refugees. The councilors and the citizens are only willing to go so far.”

Nedley slipped the pouch into an inner pocket in his new coat—a pocket that could be buttoned closed to make it harder for anyone to pickpocket him.

“Miss Treya wanted me to ask you about miners, too,” he said.

“So she mentions,” Yewen said, tapping the letter. “I didn’t find anyone here, but I just got a pigeon back from South Corner last night. Mother Vera of the chapter house there found a master miner in need of work. I believe the fellow is already on his way, in the hopes of being the first to offer his services. I did have luck in finding a sawyer. I can send him to your shop if you’re still working out of there.”

“Yes, Miss. Thank you.”

“Is there anything else?” Yewen asked, running her finger down the letter to skim the contents.

“May I be permitted to speak to Kimi?” Nedley said in a rush, then lost his nerve. “I mean, if she’s not already … umm.” Katrin and Treya had confirmed Kimi was a concubine candidate. Neither woman had laughed at him for asking, though there’d been an amused glint in Katrin’s eyes.

“Kimi?” the old woman said with a piercing stare. “How do you know Kimi? You’ve never attended a Presentation ceremony.”

“I, ahh, met her at the stables when I was feeding the horses. We spoke for a bit. Miss Treya said I shouldn’t ask for a Presentation. She and Corec think I should talk to her more instead. Treya said you might let me.”

Yewen harrumphed. “Sometimes, but usually only for the older girls who’ve …” She shook her head and cut off what she’d been about to say. “As for Kimi, if you’ve met her, I suppose the mystery of the Presentation is already gone. I’ll consider your request, but, young Mr. Nedley, what makes you worthy of a Three Orders concubine? Where do you hail from?”

“Tyrsall, Miss.”

“Tell me of your family.”

“I never knew my Ma, Miss. Pa died two years ago. My brother is a mercenary in Larso.”

Yewen’s gaze narrowed. “Are you married?”

“No.”

“And your prospects?”

“My what?”

She snorted. “Your job, your future. How will you support a wife and family? What can you offer a concubine that other men can’t?”

Nedley wasn’t rich like most men who sought out concubines, but he was no longer poor either, and he knew from meeting Patrig and Miss Nallee—Mistress Nallee, as he was supposed to call her—that the requirements were less strict in Four Roads than they would have been in the city.

He stood tall. “I work for Corec Tarwen as a corporal and squad leader. I’m fixing up a cottage in Hilltop Village. I earn enough to support a family, and I received bonuses from the expeditions to Cordaea and to fight the dragon. Corec and Boktar are training me to be a sergeant when I’m older.”

Or perhaps they were training him for something else. Soldiers didn’t wear heavy armor, and Sir Kevik was the only other person to whom Corec had offered silversteel plate. All of the newly recruited soldiers wore lighter armor, but Corec and Boktar had never asked Nedley to switch. They continued teaching him how to use the plate armor to its full effectiveness in battle.

Mother Yewen nodded. “I will speak to Kimi, and then I’ll decide whether to allow the two of you to meet again. Until then, don’t try to find her. And stay away from the stables.”

“Yes, Miss.”

#

“This doesn’t work yet,” Katrin said, jiggling the useless handle on the old water pump behind the tavern. “We bought a new one to replace it, but the whole thing has to be dug out first. For now, you’ll have to carry buckets over to the main well.”

Her brother frowned. “This place isn’t much like how you described it,” he said.

“I warned you we were still fixing it up. You’ve just always lived in a city before. Villages take some getting used to.” Katrin had never lived in a village either, but she’d passed through what seemed like hundreds of them while she’d been traveling.

“It’s so small,” Barz said. “There’s nothing to do.”

“The tavern will keep you busy, and things will be livelier once the caravans are coming through. If you’re looking for a card game, my friends play, and some of the soldiers. Just don’t take too much of their money. Most of them won’t play for real coin anyway.”

He gave her a skeptical look. “No one even gambles here?”

“Maybe for copper. If you’re looking for a real game, wait for the caravan guards—but they all carry weapons, so don’t do anything stupid.”

Barz just grunted. The gangs and crews always tried to avoid heavily armed men when they could.

“You can’t be off gallivanting around anyway,” Katrin reminded him. “Ana will need your help once the baby comes.” Katrin’s old friend was due to arrive at the keep later that evening, if Leena wasn’t too tired to make the trip to Circle Bay to get her.

Barz nodded. He’d been hesitant to accept the job, not wanting to leave everything he knew, but in the end, Ana had been the deciding factor. She was having a difficult pregnancy and had been forced to quit her job serving tables months earlier than they’d planned. The promise of having a healer nearby—one that wouldn’t charge for the service—had been too much for Katrin’s brother to resist.

Just then, two children ran around the corner of the tavern and straight at them, moving too fast to stop in time. The boy bounced off Katrin and fell to the ground.

“Whoa, you two, slow down,” Katrin said. “Bril, Maya, what are you doing?” The brown-haired brother and sister twins had been among the refugee children that Katrin’s small group of Three Orders girls had attempted to teach to read.

“Miss Katrin!” The girl hugged her leg. “We’re playin’ soldiers. Dev dared us to go up on the wall.” She pointed to the partial lookout tower, which had a stairwell leading up to the ramparts. It was the only one of the four stairwells hidden from view of the two soldiers standing near the barracks.

“Where are your parents?” Katrin asked.

Bril had stood up and was dusting himself off. “Mama’s watchin’ the babies and Papa’s tearin’ out the old floor.”

“Do they know you’re here?”

“Mama said we could go play as long as we stay out of their way.”

Katrin considered the options. The fortress might actually be safer than out in the village, with all the construction work going on, but the children couldn’t be allowed to run around unsupervised.

“Well, you can’t go up on the walls, all right? What if you fell? And don’t go in the stables unless Harri’s with you. Why don’t you go find Dev, whoever he is, and any of the other kids who aren’t busy, and we’ll figure out a game everyone can play. If you see Mistress Nallee, tell her I want to talk to her.”

The two children ran off, and Katrin turned her attention back to Barz.

“I need to take care of this,” she said. “Can you get some water from the well and wash the mugs before we open?”

Barz pursed his lips, visibly struggling with taking an order from his little sister, but then his expression cleared and he nodded. “I’ll handle it, but I need to help Ana when she gets here.”

“I’ll be back before then so you can get her settled,” Katrin said. She and Shavala had already cleaned the apartment above the tavern. “Treya knows Ana’s coming tonight. She’ll look her over and make sure everything’s all right.”

Some of the tension drained from Barz’s shoulders. “Thank you.”

#

An unfamiliar weight across her legs brought Shavala out of her sleep. Propping herself up, she found that the baby dragon had draped itself over her lower body.

She scratched the creature’s head. “You’re not going to be able to do this for much longer,” she told it. “You’re getting too heavy.”

It just looked up at her and chirped, its eyes blinking sleepily. Shavala stayed as she was, not wanting to disturb the dragon’s rest. They’d had a busy day, with her trying to teach it to use its wings for balance when it hopped or pounced. It was too soon, though—the creature hadn’t shown any sign of understanding how to fly.

She watched while it slept, laying her hand on its side to feel its heartbeat as she weighed her options. Should she send it to Cetos after all, before it grew too dangerous? The dragon could be affectionate when it wanted to be, like a puppy raised by humans, but it was missing the centuries of careful breeding that allowed dogs to live amongst people. It had no concept of right and wrong, and couldn’t comprehend Shavala’s disapproval when it did something she didn’t like. How did mother dragons discipline their young?

More importantly, why couldn’t druids speak to dragons or drakes? It was said they weren’t creatures of the natural world, but what did that actually mean? Including their wings, dragons and drakes had six limbs—something not seen in true reptiles or birds—but if they weren’t part of the natural world, where had they come from? Did they originate in Cetos, or were they from somewhere else?

The first slivers of sunlight appeared through the empty doorway of the abandoned cottage Shavala had chosen. She carefully slid her legs out from under the sleeping dragon and went to greet the day, starting with a quick breakfast of nuts and dried berries. It was too soon for fresh berries, though she’d found acres and acres of blackberry and huckleberry bushes. She’d marked their locations on a map she’d been sketching as she and the dragon explored their surroundings.

After eating, she washed her spare set of clothing. She was hanging it out to dry on a tree branch when the sound of clomping hooves echoed around the ruins of the village. Zhailai rode into view. She was one of the few dorvasta who owned a horse, since she traveled outside the forest more than most.

Shavala gave her a smile. “Did you have any trouble finding me?”

“I stayed at the keep last night,” the other druid said. “Your friends showed me a map. Corec says he’ll come out in a few days to check on you.” She glanced around. “Is the dragon here? I’m eager to see it. I’ve never seen one up close before, much less a juvenile.”

“It’s asleep. I’ll show—” Just then, Shavala caught sight of the other animals on the lead rope behind Zhailai’s horse.

“Socks!” She ran over and threw her arms around her roan gelding’s neck. “I’ve missed you so much!” She repeated the gesture with her pack mule. “I’ve missed you, too!” Both animals nuzzled her hair. “How did you get them?” she asked Zhailai.

“A ranger brought them from your old camp,” the other woman said. With ranger, she included the inflection for male.

“I will have to thank him. Who was it?”

“He said he was a friend of yours—Ellisan. He remained at the western border camp. He intends to join the patrols there.”

“Perhaps I’ll see him soon, then,” Shavala said. But why had Ellisan stayed on the western border rather than returning home?

“And I brought you something.” Zhailai had dismounted, and now she went to a pair of baskets which had been wedged into the mule’s saddlebags. She lifted the first one out and handed it over. “Gylvaren didn’t want to let them go, since Leena didn’t tell me why you wanted them. Why do you need seedlings if you can grow tershaya in a matter of minutes?”

“There’s something I want to try,” Shavala said. “I saw it in one of the visions the staff gave me, but I don’t know if I can use a tree from the staff. That wasn’t part of the vision.”

Zhailai tilted her head to the side. “A spell?”

“It might have been nothing,” Shavala admitted. “I may just be imagining things, but I want to try. If it works, I’ll be able to tell you more.” She wasn’t ready to let Zhailai know the full truth about her plans. The other woman might not approve.