Chapter Three #4
“Her name is Mieka. If you mention me, she will give you shelter while you do … whatever it is you plan to do.”
“I’m finished,” was all I said in reply.
He spun around and reached behind my ear again to pull out another coin. He held it up for me to see.
“Do that again and you’ll lose a finger,” I said, but took it. “Money?”
“Not exactly. A token. Give it to Mieka, and she will know I sent you.”
I turned it over in my fingers. The metal was cool and soft.
It felt as if my fingernail might leave an indentation if I pressed firmly.
Embossed on it was a feather, curled so that the end of its shaft was in the center and the barb spiraled around the coin’s outer edge.
A feather … like the stitch I had used to mend his coat.
“Thank you,” I said, pocketing it. I strode away swiftly and decisively, without looking back. When I had reached the road, I felt a little guilty for taking my leave so abruptly and turned to wave—but Patrick and Fane appeared to have already melted away.
Mother had told me about the Followers, of course. Unlike many aspects of the outside world, they hadn’t seemed to rouse her ire or contempt. In fact, she had spoken of them with a sort of grudging respect.
They were the last bastion of the old religions, the ones that had existed before the Temple—a chaos of nature spirits and superstition, Mother had said, where magic was practiced indiscriminately and without the steadying, guiding force of written spells and bound books.
Almost everyone had chosen to convert to the Temple after they vanquished the terrible Plague that had wiped out so much of Virelith’s population two hundred years ago, but some had held firm to the old ways.
Years of negotiations later, these stubborn few hammered out a bargain with the Temple: So long as they never stayed in any one place long enough to establish a rival church, own property, or gather disciples from among the people—aside from those who chose to leave their homes behind and become wanderers also—they could travel unmolested, under the Temple’s protection, and claim the right of hospitality from anyone along their route.
But only ever for one night. This reduced them to a swirling, perpetually moving band of outcasts who posed little threat to the Temple as any kind of rival faith.
I was not sure what united them, as they all believed such different things, unless it was just a general refusal to live under Temple rule.
With Patrick’s directions, it did not take me long to find them on the road.
They were a motley lot, the Followers—all shapes and sizes, all colors, ages, and genders.
They looked more like a crowd gathered at a country fair than a group of religious wanderers.
I hovered in the shadow of the trees, loath to step out and join them.
My heart pounded violently. I had never before been around so many people. They are Followers, they have to be kind to travelers, they have to accept me, I told myself.
Baldbeak nibbled at my ear. The Hair sent a tendril drifting to brush gently against my collarbone. And I stepped forward.
Walking into a crowd of people was a wholly new experience for me, and my skin hummed with the force of their attention.
So many faces. So many eyes. I wondered if I would seem strange to them, if there was something about me that marked me as an odd, shut-away girl who knew nothing of societal rules.
To my relief, however, there was no great stir as I drew closer.
Some murmured greetings, that was all, as I approached the member who looked the most official at the head of the group: a large, calm-looking person with a broad brown face and beautiful dark eyes.
“Good evening,” they said. “I am the Priest of this flock.”
A flock! said Baldbeak, pleased. I have always thought you needed a flock.
“It’s not that kind of flock,” I muttered.
“Pardon?”
Flustered, I said, “I am sorry, er … I don’t know how to properly address you.”
“Just by my name,” they said with a smile. “Which is Herlind. We don’t use ‘sir’ and ‘ma’am’ among our ranks, nor any signifiers of that kind. Herlind and ‘they’ will be just fine. And your name?”
“Netta,” I said.
“And you wish to join us, my dear?”
“Just for a little while,” I said. “I heard you were going towards Quell, and I …”
“Do not want to travel alone,” they finished for me. “Of course. You may walk with us as long as you need.”
“Thank you,” I managed to say through my swell of relief. I hoped that I would get used to speaking to people soon, and that the simplest conversations would cease to exhaust me.
“And do let me know if you decide to convert and spend the rest of your life a wanderer.”
It took me a moment to realize they were joking. “Oh,” I laughed, and then hesitated before saying, “Do you need to know anything else about me?”
“Not unless you wish to share it.”
“I don’t … I don’t think so.”
“Very well,” they said. They turned the full force of their long-lashed brown eyes on me, very bright in their dark face, and smiled.