CHAPTER 13
I opened my eyes. Above me, the ceiling of my new bedroom glowed slightly, its thick beams, sealed with resin, bright in the light of the morning sun.
Today was the day we went to the Dog Market.
I’d spent yesterday figuring out two plans: one for the salt and one for our legitimate business enterprise.
I’d made a single shopping list, handed it to Clover, and informed her that this morning we had to go to the Dog Market.
It was the closest and largest market nearby, named so not because puppies were sold there, although they were, but because of a massive stone statue of a demonic dog that perched at the top of the market’s main gate.
The Dog Market was a wondrous place. All sorts of goods were sold there: weapons, armor, clothes, groceries, potions, magical creatures . . . So many interesting things happened at the Dog Market in the books. I had to see it.
Get up, make myself presentable, and go to the Dog Market. Yes. Yes-yesyes . . .
There was an odd wetness on my chest.
I touched it. Slimy . . .
I flung the slimy thing off me and leaped out of the bed like there was a surprise cobra in it.
A fish lay on the floor. It was about a foot long, with a narrow body and shiny iridescent scales with a gold cast and purple stripes. Plum-colored fins, edged with crimson, thrust from its spine and belly. The mouth under its bright red eyes bristled with a forest of thin, sharp fangs.
What the hell?
The room was empty except for me and the fish. Was this some sort of weird message from the Shears? Was Solentine telling me to sleep with the fishes?
I had locked my window last night because Reynald insisted on it.
I glanced at the window. Still locked and bolted in place from the inside.
My door wasn’t locked though. Reynald’s suite was only a few feet away across the hall, and I felt better knowing that if I screamed, he would come running.
Putting a locked door in the way of my possible rescue didn’t feel prudent.
Theoretically, anybody could’ve come in and put a fish on my chest.
Was this some weird prank?
If it was a prank, my money was on Kaiden, because of his age, and yet it didn’t seem like something he would do. But who would break in to our house just to slap a fish on me?
I peeled off my nightshirt, washed up in the bathroom, and got dressed. The offending fish waited on the floor. I got a piece of paper from my desk, picked the fish up by the tail, slid it on the paper, and wrapped it up. Then I put my shoes on, took my fish, and went downstairs.
The house was quiet. Nobody in the hallways, nobody in the courtyard . . . A faint noise came from the kitchen. Ah!
I walked into the kitchen. Shana was sweeping the floor.
Behind her the oven was going, and the warm air, seasoned with the scent of freshly baked bread, washed over me.
The kitchen window stood wide open. A large shallow bucket rested on the windowsill, and a sandy-gold horse head was halfway into it, munching.
“Morning,” Shana told me. “Greet the lady of the house, Honey.”
Honey raised her head, looked at me with big amber eyes, and went back to eating.
Shana had arrived yesterday in an old cart pulled by Honey, a woodland mare.
Honey was large and broadly built, with a golden dun coat dappled with dark chestnut spots and narrow brown stripes on her legs.
Her coat pattern made me think of a spotted antelope mixed with an okapi.
Her profile was convex, her muzzle broad, and her ears were oddly shaped.
“What is she eating?” I asked.
“Vegetable peels. No sense letting them go to waste.”
At home, horses were powerful but delicate creatures.
Any sudden change in diet could result in colic, which, if severe enough, would kill the horse.
Rellasian woodland horses didn’t have that problem.
They’d evolved from a different equine ancestor than the warhorses, which was why mercenaries and caravan guards loved them.
They weren’t fast or particularly obedient, but they didn’t scare easily, they stayed near the camp even when not tethered, and they foraged for their own feed, eating just about everything like goats did.
Looking at Honey was confusing. When I’d met Villain, Everard’s huge stallion, he felt like a horse. Honey felt like a horse’s distant cousin. Probably a couple of times removed. There was nothing like that back home.
Shana was confusing, too. She was a couple of inches shorter than me, stocky, broad, and obviously very strong.
Yesterday her graying blond hair had been put away into a braid.
She’d worn chainmail and carried a mace, and the way she handled herself made you think that real-life whack-a-mole was her favorite game.
The chainmail was gone, traded for a simple dress. The mace had vanished, too. Her hair was pulled into a low croissant-shaped bun secured with a simple wooden hair brooch. I had seen several women with this style. It seemed to go hand in hand with being a little older and running errands.
Yesterday she’d looked like a human tank. Today she was a plump, nice middle-aged lady who had never held a weapon in her life. Just cleaning up the kitchen with a broom. Perfectly harmless. Sweep-sweep.
“What do you have there?” Shana asked me.
I put the paper bundle on the table and unwrapped it. “What kind of a fish is this?”
Shana squinted at my catch-of-the-bed. “That’s a young purple pike. They’re delicious. Hard to catch, too. Where did you get this?”
“I found it.”
“Where?”
“Around.”
She looked at me. I fought the urge to fidget.
“Did you go fishing?” Shana asked.
“Not exactly.”
She squinted at me.
“Where is everybody?” I asked.
“The boys got back from delivering the kids a couple of hours ago. I sent them to bed. They’re no good as guards if they are tired.”
Made sense.
“Our cart won’t fit through your entrance,” Shana said. “There’s no point in keeping it. Leaving it outside the wall is asking for it to be stolen, so Gort and Reynald left to sell it.”
Our house did have a small stable with two enclosures, but the front tunnel was too narrow for any kind of horse-drawn cart. It was too low for a rider as well. Anyone trying to come through would have to dismount. Derog had been paranoid about being raided.
“Where is Clover?”
“She went with Reynald and Gort. After they sell the cart, they’ll go to the Dog Market. We need arrows and bolts, and a few bows . . .”
“They went to the market without me?”
“Clover has your list. Don’t worry, she’ll buy everything on it.”
That wasn’t the point. I wanted to go. “Did they take Kaiden with them?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t they come to get me?”
“You were resting.”
I could follow them, but Reynald would have a cow if I went out without an escort.
They’d left me behind. Ouch.
This proved exactly what I had feared. Gort and the Magnars only listened to me because Reynald was willing to follow my lead for the time being.
Clover was grateful to me for saving her and Kaiden, and she clearly believed me when I said I knew the future, but I was failing in some basic Rellasian life skills, and she had decided that she knew better than me.
I was in real danger of being treated like one of those bumbling genius mage characters, who knew the mysteries of the universe but had trouble putting on socks and couldn’t be trusted to do anything.
So far I’d told them some secrets about their past, but the past had already happened.
I had to prove that I could predict things.
I had to deliver results and when I did, it had to hit like a ton of bricks, so when I told them I could see the future, they would believe me completely and without reservations.
Shana sniffed the fish on the table. “What are you going to do with it?”
“Um, throw it away?”
Shana gave me a hard look.
“It’s a mystery fish. I don’t know where it came from.”
“It came from Virka River.” Shana jabbed her wooden stirring spoon at the wall, in the direction of the river.
“How do you know that?” Although it was probably a safe bet since that river was literally just outside the house.
Shana set the spoon down, grabbed a narrow knife from the knife block, and pried the gills of the fish open.
“Look, see how pink they are? The gills darken when the fish is out of the water for a while, and with this kind of fish they go purple very fast. This pike was swimming less than an hour ago.”
“If you say so.”
“It’s a perfectly good fish. I’m taking it,” Shana announced.
“What for?” I asked.
“Soup!”
She took the fish and tossed it into the sink.
Okay then. I picked up the fish paper, threw it into the trash bucket, grabbed a rag from the sink, and started wiping down the table.
Shana stared at me.
“Yes?”
“What are you doing?”
“I scrubbed this table way too hard to let the fish slime stink it up.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“No need.”
I rinsed the rag under the faucet and hung it back on the sink. “Can I help you with anything?”
“No, my lady.” She’d put a bit of force into that lady.
“I’m not a lady. Can I peel something? I’m fast.”
“If I need something peeled, I will let you know.”
“I can—”
Shana pulled out a teapot and a cup and set both in front of me on the table. “You can sit in this chair right here and have your morning cup of tea. The pastries will be ready soon.”
I opened my mouth.
Shana pointed at the chair. I had seen this exact look on my mom’s face when my fifteen-year-old supergenius self told her that I didn’t need to study for drivers’ ed because I already knew everything there was to know about cars and I was an excellent driver.
I clicked my mouth shut, sat in the chair, and poured some tea.
“I’ll get you some honey,” Shana said.
“Thank you.”
She put a jar of honey in front of me. I spooned some into my cup and tried the tea. Like being kicked in the teeth by a caffeine horse. Wooo!
“Is this firepit tea?”
“Yes. Too strong for you?”