Chapter 5 No Deal
CHAPTER FIVE
NO DEAL
ADELINE
The muleteer has a small caravan, his mules loaded with bags and crates, and as promised, an open cart is attached at the end of it, pulled by an old animal with rheumy eyes. The muleteer nods at us and marches to the front of the line, alongside the laden mules, waving a stick to get them going.
Meanwhile, Eiras settles me into the cart, but he doesn’t climb up, instead choosing to walk.
“I don’t want special treatment,” I protest.
“We will switch,” he says. “Later on. We’ll alternate to rest our feet.”
I doubt he will do it, but I just thank him because that’s considerate of him. I’ll make sure he rests, though. We have quite a way to go.
It’s still strange, having him around, as strange as this impromptu, dangerous journey.
I fight the sense of safety he offers, one I haven’t felt since I was a child and he was my protective big brother.
Now I’m an adult, I’ve figured out how to look out for myself, and something tells me I can’t afford to let my guard down.
Don’t be paranoid, I tell myself. Who knows?
This journey might prove to be not so difficult after all.
Eiras has this under control. He knows the routes, the towns, the people.
We don’t need to perform extraordinary feats or become heroes.
Only reach the mountain, drop off the book, and come back. As simple as that.
It sounds so easy. Too easy. What sounds too easy is usually a trap. Quicksand. A snare. A mortal eddy.
I’m overthinking this already.
The caravan departs at dawn, leaving the busy neighborhoods and the noise of the capital behind.
I spend most of this first day twisted around to watch the houses and temple spires disappear little by little.
Quiet slowly settles over us, broken by the occasional chirp from a bird or the roaring passage of a winged dragon overhead.
My first day outside of Siris.
My first journey.
If only the circumstances were better. If only the destination wasn’t a mythical and yet all too real library of horrors.
“It is a horrible place,” Olm agrees in my ear, a hiss in his voice. “Terrible. Hazardous. Impossible to escape. Going there is a bad idea.”
“You already said that. And you’re exaggerating.” I settle the satchel at my feet. “We’re going to the library and that’s final.”
“You’re making me sad. I’m only looking out for you. You’re a frail human girl and the horrors you will face inside, if you even make it there… It breaks my heart for you.”
“You don’t have a heart. You’re a book.”
“No,” he says, voice hardening, “I’m a story. I’m a person, not only pages, ink, and a cover.”
“Of course not.” I pull my mantle up to my chin against the cold. “You have magic. And magic is dangerous, if history has taught us anything.”
“Magic is in everything,” Olm counters. “It’s what creates and sustains life. I’m not an evil king out to conquer and plunder.”
“I don’t know who you are. I know so many stories from this world and others, but I’ve never heard of your book.”
“Some stories,” he says quietly, “have many titles and many incarnations. And some fall into obscurity together with their characters.”
“Are you talking to… that book again?” Eiras is walking right beside the cart. With his blond hair caught back at the nape with a ribbon and his dark traveling clothes, he could be a prince in disguise. “What is it telling you?”
“Nothing of essence.” I think about what Olm just admitted. Could I possibly know his story under a different title? I don’t recall any protagonist called Olm.
“I can’t believe that… thing,” Eiras nods at the satchel, “that book spoke inside my head and took over my mind, using me like a puppet. It feels… revolting and offensive.”
“I don’t know why it doesn’t affect me,” I whisper, feeling strangely sorry for having been spared.
“Well, I’m glad,” he says fiercely. “You always had a strong mind.”
I shoot him a surprised look. “I didn’t know you thought that of me.”
“You had such a strong pair of lungs on you when mother brought you home. And always had your way. Not in a spoiled, demanding brat way, mind you. You worked hard for everything. You even convinced Brogan to keep you, and he was reluctant at first.”
Was he? That’s news to me. I love him as much as my heart can love anyone.
“He thought we couldn’t afford another child. He was fighting a lot with Mother back then, as well.”
I shake my head. “I can’t remember any of that.”
“That’s because once you arrived, things started to change. You always reached for Brogan. Called out for him. Melted his heart.”
I laugh softly. “You see? I’m sweet. And Naida?”
“Mother was in love with you from the moment she saw you; it was clear. And so was I.”
“Eis…”
“My little sis.” Grinning, he reaches out to ruffle my hair. “The witch with the magical mark.”
“Don’t say that. You heard Naida. I have no magic, unlike you. I’m just a human.”
“Well, I don’t believe knowing stories is magic, either, so how do you explain being able to resist the book?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I don’t know anything about myself.”
“Except that you are an exceptional little thief.” His grin turns into a fond smile. “And a pain in my ass.”
I cluck my tongue. “You’re lucky to have me, big brother. Your life would be so boring without me.”
“That’s so true…”
We avoid any mention of Olm’s book as the cart rattles on, the caravan passing through villages and past hamlets built on the flat plain. We pass outside small groves and big farmsteads where cattle, sheep, and some horses graze on the green pastures.
We stop at the first big town on our way, built on the Styges river, which continues on its way to wind through the capital, Siris. My city. It’s cleaner here, judging by the distinct lack of a stench, and the town is filled with trees, the scent of flowers wafting over the riverbank.
We locate a stone-built fountain and stand in line for the pack animals to drink, then allow them to graze and rest for a while.
Meanwhile, the muleteer—whose name is Afram—takes advantage of our presence to leave us in charge of the caravan while he calls on various houses with bolts of fabric and returns with his purse heavy with coin.
He keeps shooting me narrow looks as he reharnesses the mules together. I’ve been walking up and down the meadow where he left us to stretch my legs, and poor Eiras is sitting on the cart to rest his.
“What?” Eiras finally asks him, a little too sharply, after a while. “Why are you staring at us? What’s the matter?”
“It’s not often you see humans traveling together with the fae,” he says.
“And yet you’re friends with my brother,” I say.
“Your brother, is he? Did you cut off your ear points?” He snorts. “He’s fae, and you’re not.”
“It’s none of your business,” Eiras says. “We paid our fare.”
“She’s eldritch,” he says, nodding at me. “Or else, gone funny in the head. She keeps talking to herself. Think I didn’t notice? What are you two doing together? Eloping? Running off into the wilderness with the dark fae and the goblins? Are you both fucking crazy?”
“That’s enough,” Eiras snarls. “We paid. You take us to the last town. That was our deal.”
“The deal is off,” the man snarls right back, beard bristling. “I won’t remain involved in your little heist or elopement or whatever this is any longer. The mountains are right around the bend. You can hike over there.”
Throwing the leather satchel off the cart, Eiras climbs off to stand beside me, wrapping an arm over my shoulders. “You can’t do that.”
“Watch me. Or did you think you fae can frighten me?” The man finishes tying his mules together, one behind the other, and starts pulling them away.
“Your days of glory are long past, boy. The only fae who can scare me are the dark fae hiding in the forests and mountains you’re heading toward. Get it?”
“I’ll show you what I get, you witless son of a legless lizard!” Eiras starts after the caravan, but I grab his arm, pulling him back.
I also lift the satchel and sling it over my shoulder. Can’t risk Olm taking over my brother again. “Eis. Stop.”
“He can’t leave us here.”
“He already has.” I gesture at the mules passing us by. “The mountains aren’t all that far now. We can walk. We’re not saving that much time and we avoid trouble.”
Eiras shakes his fists at the last mule walking past us. “A punch to his face was warranted.”
“Perhaps. But if you fight with him and get hurt, who’s going to look after me?”
He sighs, glaring at the caravan that’s returning to the road, moving farther and farther away from us. “That was a low blow, sister.”
I grin at him. “And yet it works like a charm every time.”