Three - Scarlette
I lasted abouthalfway to the village before giving in to the urge to glance under the cloth covering the charms in the basket. Mindful of Ranulf’s warning, I was careful not to touch them, but I wanted to see what I was delivering, at least. What I found was a handful of marbles, the glass smooth with a greenish tint, and stacks of wooden discs.
Each disc had a symbol carved into its surface. I spotted a bone, a willow tree, and what looked like a drop of water. The symbols most likely denoted what each spell was made to do.
I wanted to look through them and examine each one. The wooden discs would be enchantments, magical items that could be triggered as needed, draining their power based on usage. They were exactly what Ranulf had warned me not to touch. If I triggered the enchantments accidentally, all the effort put into their creation would be wasted. Most likely, a glancing touch wouldn’t invoke them. Ranulf would have made the trigger something like tracing the entire carving just to avoid such mistakes. But since I didn’t know for certain, I erred on the side of caution.
The marbles would be charms. Simpler spells, but ones that ran through power no matter how much they were used. A charm never turned off, but it failed after a set amount of time. Most charms had to be renewed every few weeks.
I picked up a marble, careful not to touch any of the wooden discs. I admired the way the color of the glass shifted under the sunlight, reflecting all the shades of green in the forest. I imagined the same tiny bit of glass dwarfed by Ranulf’s hands.
The healer was an odd mix of gentle and gruff. Shoving me out the door, but insisting I eat breakfast first. Drinking me in one moment—heat in his eyes—and glaring the next. I was no longer convinced that he wanted nothing to do with me. But he clearly did not appreciate whatever feelings my presence inspired.
His moods should have left me dizzy and ready to leave him behind. Instead, I was curious. I wanted to know all the secrets locked behind closed lips. I wanted to taste those lips.
I shoved the marble back into the basket and shook my head. My emotions were running wild due to stress. I had been so worried for so long about my mother, and now, here I was, about to get the remedy she needed. No wonder I couldn’t stop thinking about the healer. The hands that would hold the glass as he made the charm. The lips that would . . . no.
The charm. I needed to focus on the charm and what I would do if Ranulf didn’t bring it in a week. No, thoughts like that weren’t any better. But now I couldn’t think of anything else.
Maybe what I needed was to stop thinking. Switching the basket from one arm to another, I looked up at the sky. I was walking along the bank of the river, following it downstream toward the village. The sun would be high enough soon that I’d want to retreat to the tree line and shade, but for now I enjoyed the summer heat. It was mild compared to what I was used to back home.
As I watched, a shadow crossed the sky ahead of me. It soared overhead, circling slowly around, and my breath caught. A dragon.
I knew the creatures lived in the Gaboor Mountains, which defined the eastern and northern edges of the forest, but I hadn’t expected to see one flying overhead here. Then again, the Drakona Forest must have earned its name for a reason.
I stopped walking, stepping closer to the tree line to be safe, and watched the dragon. It was a majestic creature, with a long sinuous neck and wedge-shaped head. Its tail was half again as long as its body, but with only the clouds to compare to, I couldn’t guess at how large it was. The dragon’s scales glinted in the sun, a brilliant green that matched the leaves of the trees surrounding me. The same shade as Ranulf’s eyes.
I shook my head, refusing to think about the surly healer’s eyes, or arms, or any other part of him. But it was too late. My thoughts spiraled back to why he had insisted I leave. I prayed to Affenala, the goddess of hope, that it hadn’t been a ploy to get rid of me without needing to make the charm.
I always tried to honor the Affenala’s optimism, but it was hard in this case. If Ranulf didn’t come to the village in a week, I’d have to try again, and time was running out.
The dragon stopped circling, flying back toward the mountains with lazy wingbeats that propelled it through the air at a breathtaking speed. I resisted the urge to turn and watch it fly away. I needed to reach Wulfkin and find a way to pay for a bed for the next week.
The innkeeper smiledwhen she saw me come through the door, basket on my arm. “Back so soon? I’m glad the healers were able to help you.”
The inn in Wulfkin served mostly as the local tavern. Mistress Weslet rented out two bedrooms upstairs to the occasional traveler, but few visitors bothered to come so far into Drakona Forest. The healing charms and enchantments like the ones in my basket were sent downriver to larger towns and even the capital city. Few people needed to request specific charms like I had.
“Actually, these are for the village.” I set the basket on the counter. “Ranulf asked me to bring them into the village for him. He said it will take a week for my charm to be ready.”
Mistress Weslet made a disapproving sound. “I take it Grandmother Molle wasn’t at the cottage. Leave it to that boy to make you walk all the way back on an errand that could have waited until his normal delivery day. He doesn’t realize how long of a walk it is, probably thinks it is reasonable for you to walk to the village and back to the cottage on the same day. Well, I won’t have it. You will spend the night here.”
I bit my lip. “I’ll need a bed for more than one night, I’m afraid. He made it clear that I’m to wait here and he’ll deliver the charm when it is done. I can help around the inn while I’m here, of course. And a place in the stable is good enough for me.”
The innkeeper had allowed me to help her serve food and drinks to pay for my bed the first time I came through the village. She had even insisted I take an empty guest room instead of sleeping in the hayloft, as I had suggested. But what she offered out of kindness for one night might not be an option when I was staying for an entire week.
She frowned, and I tried not to let disappointment seep in. If I couldn’t earn a room at the inn, then maybe one of the villagers would let me stay with them in exchange for help around the house for the week. I was certain there were plenty of people with too much to do and a bit of empty floor and a blanket, if nothing else.
Mistress Weslet didn’t send me packing, though. At least not yet. “Here, you’re probably hungry after your long walk. Why don’t you sit and I’ll bring you a bowl of stew. We can discuss everything after you’ve eaten.”
“Oh, but I should really take care of these charms.” I couldn’t afford a bowl of stew unless the innkeeper allowed me to pay for it in labor.
She pulled the basket from the counter. “I’ll deliver these to Thalia while you eat; it will be easier than trying to tell you where to find her. Now go. Sit. I’ll send Alfred out with a bowl.”
She ushered me to a table, silencing my half-hearted attempt at an objection with a single look. I sat down, and she went back through the door to the kitchen.
Within minutes, Master Weslet scurried out of the kitchen carrying a full bowl of stew, a mug of ale, a heel of bread, and a wedge of cheese. I watched in amazement as he set everything on the table in front of me without so much as a splash, despite both the mug and bowl being full to the brim. He nodded at me and hurried away without a word.
Though the bread was a tad dry and bland, the meal as a whole was delicious. And huge. I was barely halfway through by the time Mistress Weslet returned. She smiled when she saw me digging into the food, but before she could say anything, a man stumbled into the common room from the stairs.
“Ale,” he called out before collapsing into a chair.
I wondered if he was a patient, someone who had put up with the discomforts of travel to reach the node and powerful healers. Then I saw the way the innkeeper frowned at him and revised my opinion. A common drunk, stumbling out of bed well after the sun had reached its zenith.
I watched him from the corner of my eye. He wore leather pants the same dark shade as his short hair with a simple linen shirt. No vest or jacket. Then I noticed the hilt of a sword on his hip. An armed drunk. Wonderful.
I trained my eyes back on the last of my meal, not wanting to catch the man’s attention. Every instinct I had told me to avoid him. I saw a flash of green skirts as Mistress Weslet delivered his ale and asked if he wanted anything to eat.
When I finished eating, I gathered the empty dishes and carried them to the kitchen. I found the sink easily after my evening helping out, and I had them cleaned in no time. Master Weslet even went so far as to thank me before I exited his domain and returned to the common room.
I went directly to the counter to talk to the innkeeper. Maybe I could offer to bake for the inn this week. Would she be insulted if I made the suggestion?
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said with a smile when I came out of the kitchen. “It is my job to clean up after the patrons.”
“I told you before, I have no coin to offer.”
“And the meal was a gift, dear.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. You more than earned it the other night. I hadn’t realized what a relief it is to have an extra set of hands around here in the evening.”
“Then you could use the help this week while I wait for the charm? Not just the evening, of course. I won’t have anything else to do, so I am free to help during the day as well.”
“I’d love to have your help, and the bedroom you used before is still free, but I have a different offer for you. Actually, it is a bit of a favor.”
“What is it?”
Mistress Weslet looked over at the man now shoveling stew into his mouth, then leaned closer to me over the counter. “The village needs to get a message to Ranulf. We have a summons crystal for medical emergencies, but this doesn’t qualify. Sending someone with a note means a full day’s work lost. Thalia and I thought that perhaps you could deliver it to the cottage for us tomorrow.”
My smile froze. I imagined how Ranulf would react to opening his door and finding me there once again.
The innkeeper hurried to keep talking. She must have feared I’d say no. “I know it is quite a walk and you have already been traveling for days, but this message is very important. I’ll make sure he lets you stay at the cottage until your charm is finished, too. His grandmother would be ashamed to hear that he sent you away without a cure for your mother.”
“He didn’t refuse to make the charm,” I defended him automatically. “He said he would deliver it to me here.”
“Yes, but it would be easier if you were around when he finishes it, wouldn’t it?”
Since I had the same thought, I couldn’t object. As much as I worried about Ranulf’s reaction to finding me once more asking to stay at the cottage, I couldn’t deny that I wanted to be there. I wanted to see the charm getting made. I wanted to know that I’d soon have something to bring home to my mother.
I wanted to figure out the healer and see if I had imagined that heated look when he first came downstairs this morning.
“I can deliver the message. Should I leave now?” It was late enough that the forest would grow dark well before I reached the cottage. Despite the long summer days, it would grow dark early thanks to the heavy tree cover. But if the message was urgent . . .
Mistress Weslet looked over at the sole patron of her common room once more. “No. Tomorrow is soon enough. Thank you, dear.”
People began driftinginto the common room for an end-of-day drink or a meal soon after I agreed to return to the healers’ cottage. Though Mistress Weslet had made it clear that she was happy to offer me a bed for the night in exchange for my services as a messenger, I felt silly sitting in the common room like a paying patron.
I pulled on the same apron I had used the other night and began helping. The villagers were a friendly bunch, chatting with me, joking, and having a good time. I could forget my worries here. It was a pleasant change from the tavern where I worked back home. Anger was more common than joviality there.
The man from earlier had returned to his room when the first surge of people entered the common room. Later in the evening, when most people who only wanted meals had finished and returned home, and those who planned to stay for drinks pulled out dice, he returned. He wore the same leather pants but had added a quilted gambeson over his shirt. He still carried a sword, and I could now see that he had a long hunting knife at his other hip.
Plenty of villagers made their living from hunting and trapping in the forest, but there was something very different about this huntsman. He sat down at a table where a handful of men diced, and the locals exchanged glances before passing him the cup of dice.
“Going to try to get us all drunk again tonight, is he?” I heard one man murmur to his friend. “You’d think he’d have learned his lesson last night.”
I wandered over to the dice game. “Are you ready for another round?”
Before the stranger could answer, one of the locals shook his head. “This is my last. Gotta get home soon.”
The other villagers nodded their heads in agreement, and the huntsman scowled. When that dice game ended, he moved on to another table. Once more, the locals took that as a signal to finish their drinks and leave.
I wandered over to the counter where Mistress Weslet poured ale. She watched the men make their way out of the common room with a small smile. I had expected her to be upset at the loss of custom, but clearly something had happened the night before to make everyone wary of the stranger.
He didn’t join the final game still going, shifting to a table by himself. He took a sip of ale and slammed his mug on the table. I pasted on my politest smile and went to check if he needed another drink.
“Can I get you anything else?”
“Just another ale.” His eyes traveled up my body, but I didn’t think he was actually seeing me. Habit, rather than active interest. When he finally made it to my face, his brow furrowed. His hand snapped out and grabbed my wrist. “You weren’t here yesterday.”
I had learned after years of working in the tavern back home that sometimes the best way to get free of unwanted attention was to ignore it. This huntsman seemed like the type who would make more of a fuss if I wrenched my arm free. If I didn’t protest, he might release me on his own after I answered his question. And if he didn’t, well, then breaking free was still an option.
“I wasn’t.”
He tugged my arm, but he wasn’t trying to pull me closer. “Sit. Take a break with me for a few minutes. What’s your name? I’m Gideon.”
He released my wrist.
I didn’t sit, his sudden change in demeanor somehow more worrying than his initial grasp on my arm. “I’m really quite busy.”
Gideon reached into his belt pouch and pulled out a half silver. He set it on the table and slid it my direction. “Tell me about the dragon.”
I blinked. I looked from the coin to Gideon and tried to make sense of his words. “The dragon?”
He pushed the coin a little closer to me. “The dragon. I know it is living in the forest. What I need to know are its habits. The location of its lair.”
The bit of metal called to me. That single coin could help so much. But I knew nothing about a dragon apart from what I had seen that day. Even if I did, I wouldn’t want to share information with the hunter. The thought of anyone killing such a majestic creature appalled me.
I looked away from the silver and shook my head. “I don’t think any dragons are living in the forest. The trees would make it difficult for them. We’re close enough to the mountains that they might fly overhead once in a while, I suppose.”
The dragon-hunter snatched back his coin. “I know you are all lying to me, and I’m going to prove it.”
I took a step back. “I’ll go get you that ale.”
Mistress Weslet had a mug waiting for me when I reached the counter, but she kept a grip on the handle. “Was he bothering you? I can have Alfred serve him the rest of the evening. You are supposed to be resting, anyway.”
“Not necessary,” I said with a genuine smile. Working for the Weslets made keeping my cheerful expression all night easy. “I don’t need to rest. And Gideon wasn’t bothering me that way. He wanted to know about a dragon in the forest.”
The innkeeper slid the mug toward me, but slowly. “And what did you tell him?”
“That the forest seemed like an odd place for a dragon to make its home, but they might fly overhead since we are so close to the mountains.”
She relaxed, her movements once more brisk and efficient. “A good answer. If he says anything more about dragons, let me know, will you?”
“Of course.”
I brought the mug of ale to Gideon, then checked on the few remaining patrons. Most of them were heading home, the hunter’s presence contributing to their short night out. A woman clapped the final man still seated on the shoulder as she stood up. Her voice was low, and I just made out the words. “You going to drink him under the table again tonight?”
The man smirked. “Gotta make sure Hilde earns something, since the blighter chased off all her regulars.”
“As if she didn’t tell everyone that she wouldn’t serve more than two pints to anyone who can’t hold their drink while he’s here.”
I finished clearing the table that had recently emptied and carried the dishes back to the kitchen. Did this still have to do with the dragon? Why would the entire village care about keeping a dragon secret? I tried to imagine what the secret could even be. That the dragon lived in the forest, I supposed, but that made little sense. As I had told Gideon, the trees did not make for an inviting home for a creature so large. Especially not one with wings.
I washed the dishes, trying to think of other possibilities, then pushed the question aside. I’d leave the village after breakfast tomorrow. Once I had the charm, I might stop by one more night, but then I had to go home. Wulfkin wasn’t my home, and I had no right to its secrets.