Chapter 11 Jaqual
Jaqual
Eloise
Finding the pen so that the rabble beasts can run and graze proves harder than it should be.
I’ve figured out the Rivertoad encampment is shaped like a wheel, and the nameless man who welcomed us into the tent said the rabble beast pen was between the southeast spokes.
Only, there are multiple southeast spokes, and a girl leading two rabble beasts can’t fit between the wagons to search for the pen.
I try following one spoke to the end, thinking I can walk around the outside of the wheel, but after walking for a concerning amount of time, I suspect I’m in trouble.
The caravan is enormous. No question the Rivertoads can harbor thousands of mercenaries for hire. There are thousands of wagons.
“There’s a break every ten wagons. You’re not far from the next one.
” Looking around Romulus, I spot the man who’s offered the welcome advice and raise my eyebrows when he instantly reminds me of an actor from a pirate movie.
He sports long, wavy black hair and eyes an arresting shade of violet.
Tall and lean, with the type of tight, ropy muscles you get from constant movement, he has a manner of dress that fits right in amongst the vibrant wagons.
His pants are a thick, dark material, but his long-sleeved white shirt looks thin as linen.
The jacket he wears is colorful leather but pieced together like a quilt from scraps of more than one animal.
Mismatched beads dangle from his ears, his neck, his wrists, one necklace displaying a painting of an oversized eye that rests over his sternum.
Nothing of value. Almost as if he went shopping in the lost and found of a retirement home.
Somehow, on this man, it all works.
“Thank you,” I say. “It’s my first time enjoying your hospitality. I’m afraid I haven’t figured out the lay of the land yet.”
He saunters over to me. “Hospitality? You must be so new as not to have tasted the food or drank the ale.”
I chuckle. “Honestly, I don’t require much and am grateful for whatever we can get.”
“We?”
“My brother, cousin, and I. We recently fled Covellton. New Stygarde,” I say by way of explanation.
“I see. Well, then you’re lucky to be alive.”
“And to have made a friend who can show me to the animal pen.” I slant him a pleading look.
A ghost of a smile turns his lips, and he starts forward, gesturing for me to come along. We fall into step. “You know, most inhabitants of the northern Borderlands don’t think highly of Rivertoads. Are you sure you want to make a friend of one?”
“My grams always said to judge a rose by its blooms, not by where it takes root, and if you knew my grams, you’d know she wasn’t talking about roses.”
He laughs. “You haven’t known me long enough to assess my bloom.”
“Don’t underestimate the power of your stench,” I say through a chuckle.
His laugh grows stronger.
“Anyway, I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt. If you rob me instead of leading me to the rabble beast pen, you will ruin my perception of all Rivertoads going forward indefinitely. Please don’t. I’d really like a place to sleep tonight.”
His laughter finally simmers down, and he points at a gap between two wagons that I wouldn’t have seen without him there.
I don’t know how they’ve managed it, but the angle of the wagons makes my eye go right over the gap.
Though, once I know it’s there, I can’t unsee it.
I lead the rabble beasts, single file, through the opening and see the pen straightaway.
Borus and Romulus practically dance once I remove their tack and the saddlebags.
I turn to the man, who still waits by the gate, as I hang the tack on the posts provided and move to hoist the heavy saddlebags onto my shoulders. “Well, you haven’t tried to deprive me of my things after all, so I’d say your bloom is adequate to meet the bar of friendship.”
“The night is young. I could be a danger to you yet.” He opens the gate and grabs one of the bags, hoisting it onto his shoulder. Although I could use magic, to lighten the load and carry them both, I don’t risk it and allow him to assist me. I’m supposed to be a common farmer after all.
“Thank you for your help.”
He glances at me. “Oh, I’m stealing this. I just happen to be heading in the same direction as you.”
I snort. “What do you want with my brother’s dirty underwear?”
He laughs again. “What is your name, friend?”
“Velis.”
“Velis? That hardly suits you.”
I scoff. “Who are you to say a name suits or doesn’t suit me? We’ve never met. I think my parents understood what would suit me far better than you could.”
“Fair.” He winks. “But you have too much fire now for such a common, airy name.”
“What’s your name?”
He studies me for a second, as if wondering if he should tell me, then says, “Jaqual.”
I try the syllables of the unusual name out on my tongue. “Zha-qu-ahl.”
He nods that I’ve got it right. “Would you say it suits me?” He grins devilishly.
I instantly think of the Earth animal jackal and the similarities to his toothy smile and doglike presence at my side. “I don’t see how I could possibly judge, but off the cuff, I’d say the name is perfect for you. You can tell your parents they did a very fine job indeed.”
His smile falters. “That I can’t do. My parents are dead.”
Great. Nice work, Eloise. Way to ingratiate yourself to the Rivertoads by bringing up this man’s dead parents. “I’m sorry—”
“Never mind it. I was left with the community as a baby. They named me.”
“But if you were abandoned as a baby, don’t you have—I only mean, were you raised by the entire community?”
He smiles a little wider. “I have a few families that I think of as mine, but yes, I am a child of all. And thank the goddess. There’s no better life, especially now.”
My thoughts wander to what it would be like to be raised by multiple families. I lost my parents as a teen, but at least I had Grams.
“What do you think of our caravan?” he asks me, shooting me a crooked smile.
I shrug. “I haven’t tried the food yet, of course, but it smells edible. Plus, you’re not starving, which is a major plus.”
His smile falters, and he sighs at my reference to my village. “And the rest of it?”
“You mean the traveling and the wagons?”
He nods.
“I think when I was a young girl, I would have balked at calling a wagon home, but only a few days ago, I stood by helplessly as everything I called home went up in flames. Now, I wonder if there is wisdom in traveling light, in making roots in the wind and the dust of the road, in staying true only to each other and not to a single place.”
He stops walking and gazes down at me with those arresting purple eyes. “That’s a beautiful sentiment, Velis, and delivered from the heart.” And that’s when I see it. The eye pendant around his neck…blinks.
I stare at it for a moment, my eyes widening. “Your amulet. I could swear I saw it blink just now.”
He snorts and walks on. “A trick of the light.”
But I reach out for Phantom and send a tiny tendril of magic toward the eye.
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end as my fiery dragon magic meets another magic, one that tastes like cool water and smells of green grass.
This is not the magic of the witches of Dimhollow or the shadow magic inherent among shades.
This is something completely unique. Something I’ve never encountered before.
Jaqual slides a glance in my direction, and I retract my power, worried he might have felt my probing. Do Rivertoads have witches living among them? Have I made friends with the Merlin of this Camelot?
I am more intrigued than ever by this caravan and its people, but especially this man and his unusual magic. “Jaqual, you said you were found and raised by the Rivertoads, but have you always lived among them? Ever stayed in any of the regions for school or work?”
His eyes narrow on me, and I get the sense he’s looking right through me. “The caravan is the only life I’ve ever known, and I’m grateful for it.”
I can see the tent up ahead, smell the stewing meat. “Are you afraid New Stygarde could take it all away, as they did my home?”
His shallow smile doesn’t falter on his lips, but it leaves his eyes entirely.
“I’m afraid this is where I leave you, Velis.
” He hands me the other saddlebag, and I shift it onto my opposite shoulder with an exaggerated oomph and a bend of my knees.
“Welcome to the caravan. Perhaps I’ll see you again tomorrow. ”