Chapter Sixty-Five. Recruitments.
Sixty-Five
Recruitments.
“You cannot be serious.”
We’re stepping out of Thale’s establishment as Merc makes the announcement. And follows it up with: “And he believed you.”
“It’s going to work.” I have no idea if this is going to work. “Trust me.”
“You’re mad.” He gets back on his horse. “And he’s mad for listening to you.”
One of the sets of double doors opens, and Thale emerges with two of his working women, and I try to avoid looking at the one on the left.
It’s Bethle, the lady for hire Merc was with, her long blond hair flowing down her pink gown.
A quick glance at him and he doesn’t seem to notice her in any fashion—and she doesn’t seem to mind.
Linking arms with her cohort, who is in turquoise, the pair of them are like fancy birds in the bright light, their bodices rippling as they giggle and preen.
“I must say, this is a new approach to an old problem.” Thale looks down the lane impatiently. “But it’s a lovely day for an outing in my coach, isn’t it, my dears.”
“Wait.” I glance at him. “There’s a third.”
“Oh? Does she have blond hair?” He smiles in Merc’s direction. “One fair-haired maiden seems to be more than enough, no?”
Merc’s glare is sharp as his broadsword’s blade. “You really don’t want to address me right now.”
I step in between them. “Just hold on a moment.”
Praying that the pair of them don’t get into it, I race back inside and pass the stairs.
Pushing open the kitchen door, I scan the maids who are about, kneading bread dough at the counters, doubling up to roll in extra kegs of mead, stocking logs by the oven’s side doors.
Everything is cleaner, and fresher smelling, and the pall that seemed to affect all the staff has lifted. Talk is relaxed, cheerful—
“Oh! There you are.” I go over to Lalah. “I need your help—”
“You’re back!” She smiles at me. “Your room is ready—”
“I need you to come with me.”
Her brows rise, but she immediately wipes her floured hands on her apron. “Of course.”
In my haste, I almost trip over a bag of grain, and she helps me catch my balance. As we head through the kitchen door, she turns to go up the stairs.
“No, out here.”
“Oh, you need help with your pack.” She smiles as if in apology. “Allow me to take Lavante to the stables and bring you your things.”
Though she tries to get to the pub’s exit first, I’m the one that opens it for her—and we both stop as we see the black carriage that has driven up to the porch.
With a matched pair of gray horses, and footmen in the back, it’s like a royal visitor has pulled up—except for the lack of a coat of arms.
Its passenger entry is opened by one of the uniforms, the red velvet interior like a hearth. But Thale is the one who gets the working women settled, helping them inside with a chivalrous hand.
“May she ride with you, too?” I ask.
He pivots back around, and raises an eyebrow. “Yes, she may.” He gets in and extends his hand to the barmaid. “Come now, Lalah.”
She glances up at the driver, who’s stationed on top. It’s Emma, her twin, who motions for her to get in—yet still, she remains frozen.
Aware that there’s now a crowd around us, I clear my throat. “Would you prefer to ride with me—”
I barely get the offer out before Lalah scurries over to Lavante. There’s a chuckle as Thale shuts himself and his women in together, and then a pounding on the carriage roof. With a snap of the reins and a smile to both of us, Emma sets them off.
Putting my foot in the stirrup, I saddle up, and then Lalah does the same, pushing a toehold in where my slipper was and hopping high.
There is more than enough room for the both of us in the cradle—a good thing, because with my supplies and clothes secured where I once sat, there’d be no way to accommodate anyone behind me.
Merc waits until I give Lavante the go-ahead before spurring his own steed on, and we must canter off to catch up to the stagecoach.
It turns out that his horse is better as a follower than a leader and now regularly keeps up, whereas when Merc was on his own, he had to constantly urge the gelding forth.
Still, I feel the need to check on them—
There’s a parade in our wake.
As we head out of the Outpost, all kinds of townsfolk gather their horses and their carts and fall in with the procession. How they have scrambled so fast is a surprise—then again, given where they live, they’re no doubt prepared for all sorts of eventualities.
Seeing them snake along the road makes me anxious.
What started as a possible solution has turned into a spectacle, and everything’s resting on my silly idea.
“Are you okay back there?” I ask Lalah.
“Oh, yes. My sister and I used to do this bareback.”
The trip through the meadow is a blur, and as the rushing of the floodwaters grows louder, and we approach the branch in the travel road, I find myself terrified that the grasses and trees will bow to me again.
Fortunately, nothing unusual occurs. And I can explain that no more readily than I can explain what happened before.
When we close in on the cliffs, and then are closed in by the cliffs, our speed slows and the cacophony of so many people and horses and carriages in the narrow passages creates a din.
After what seems like no time at all, we cram into what previously seemed to be a sizable clearing, with people wedging themselves tight for a view of the Crystal Gate.
“You dismount first,” I say to Lalah.
But she’s already slipping off and taking the reins to hold Lavante.
Merc is also already boots-on-the-ground, and when Lalah offers him her hand, he gives his horse over to her as well.
I shake my head. “No, Lalah, we need you, too—”
“So!” Thale’s voice ushers in a silence so quick, so complete, it’s as if no one was talking at all. “It’s time to see what you want to do with these beautiful women.”
The smile he gives me is indulgent. The look he gives Merc is self-satisfied, as if needling the other man’s obvious hatred of him is such a bonus to the adventure.
“And if you are wrong,” Thale continues, “no matter. I have enjoyed my time with … dear friends.”
The black-haired woman dabs at the corners of her mouth with her fingertips, then licks her lips as if she’s tasted something she enjoyed. Next to her, Bethle laughs in a throaty fashion and leans into Thale, draping her arm on his shoulder.
“What would you like us to do,” she asks me with a bold smile.
I clear my throat. “I would like you to sing.”
As the women frown, Thale cracks a laugh. “Though I have many abilities—” The ladies offer an affirmative chuckle at that. “—I’m afraid carrying a tune is not among them.”
“Not you.” I nod to his working women. “The ladies. Please.”
As a twin set of surprise comes back at me, I indicate the barrier. “You have strong, high voices. I believe that if you get the pitch up enough, the vibration will—”
Conversation explodes around me, people laughing and shaking their heads. Even Thale, who’s been readily enough going along with this, gives the idea a hearty shout of mirth.
“Like with a glass.” I speak louder. “Haven’t you seen someone sing and break a glass before?”
“There are many broken glasses at my establishment,” Thale counters, “but such a note has never been the cause of such a shatter.”
“Please.” I glance back at Merc, who’s frowning at me. Then I refocus on the women. “I heard you singing together the first day I came into the pub. You have pure, soprano voices, and I think the acoustics will help amplify them—”
Thale bends down and picks up a palmful of musket balls. “All these projectiles, over all these years? And you think song will do what these have not.”
“They’re the wrong tool for the job.” I glance up at the gate.
“We must try, at least. A concert, for all these people who came this far? And surely you’re willing to share your gifts if they might open this more direct trade route to the Kingdom of the South?
And I know I’m right, this is a better way down there. ”
Thale inclines his head. “It’s true. It would be much faster.”
“And we are used to sharing our talents,” the raven-haired one says with a seductive smile. “If you want us to sing at this wall, why not.”
She takes the hand of her blond friend and saunters forward.
There are some soft words between them and then they nod at each other.
With the sunlight streaming down, and the pink and turquoise dresses, they’re like part of a rainbow come to rest in the midst of all the lead shot, axe-heads, and iron hammers.
They take a couple of deep breaths. Then there’s a pause filled by the restless crowd chattering.
I glance at Merc once again. He’s staring at me, as if two beautiful women in bodices that accentuate their assets are not standing a length away from him—
The women start to sing, their voices rising and falling to a tune that is chipper and lively. The harmonizing skips along the cliffs and redoubles, until the song comes alive as if a hundred voices are carrying these words I do not understand—
“No, no.” I cut them off, waving my hands. “It’s lovely, but—”
The women fall silent and glare at me.
“One note.” I wish I could look them in the eyes to make my point. “Just one. As loud and high and long as you possibly can.”
I remember how Sallae Mae used to do it, focusing her voice on the rim of the glass, singing in a prolonged, steady way until—
“On three,” I tell the women. “One … two…”
As I get to three, I point at them.
There’s only annoyed silence. Until Thale orders sharply, “Do as she says.”
“One,” I repeat. “Two … and three.”
On my command, they both strike a note, high and loud and clean. “More!” I yell over the sound. “And project it at the barrier!”
I slap my hand on the pane, and I can feel the vibration. “Yes! It’s working! Keep going—”
They run out of air almost as soon as they start, and take deep breaths to recover. All around, the crowd shifts on their feet.
“We need to try again.” I look over toward my horse. “And we need one more voice.”