Chapter Eight De Nile is a River #2
Jerrald did a little eye roll that wasn’t quite an eye roll.
“Come on.” He tilted his head and I followed him into a corridor.
It was slightly cooler behind stone walls, the afternoon seemed unseasonably hot.
He started in one direction, and I figured following him was better than sitting in the dirt of the. ..bailey.
“So, you’re a witch,” he said, accusingly. “You could have told me in the forest.”
I set my face. “I’m a witch’s apprentice. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone until I told the queen herself.”
“Is it true you told her a snake would eat Lord Parable’s tongue?”
I snorted. “Of course not. Where are we going?”
“You may not be a warrior, but where we’re heading, you’ll still need protection.” He glanced at me from the corner of his eye. “Witch’s apprentice, perhaps, but I know underneath that you’re still just a woman.”
My face blazed remembering him coming upon me yesterday in the forest, when we rounded a corner and passed a woman with a basket full of laundry. She had no eyes for anything except the path in front of her as she staggered along, and I had to race around her to keep up with Jerrald.
“Or have you got magic against battle damage?” Jerrald asked, kinder this time.
I shook my head, my face still warm. “Well, that is, I can’t die. But I can get hurt.”
“Can’t die...” He processed that a moment. “What you need, then, is not to get hurt in the first place. The armory won’t have much to spare, but there’s a fella I know.”
Indeed, the armory was crowded as workers packed supplies here too.
It could have been any room in the castle—flagstone floor, high ceilings, dim windows—save for worktables littered with leather-working tools.
It was hot from all the activity and out the nearest door was a forge.
The distant sound of metal on metal rang like the ticking of a clock.
Jerrald peeked in a barrel and I followed suit. There were scraps of leather in the bottom. “Already getting slim,” he noted.
I didn’t even know I needed armor five minutes ago, but now that Jerrald thought I did, I felt my hackles raise. I needed to get my hands on some before they ran out.
“Oi, Dunham!” Jerrald shouted. He dropped his voice and said, “That’s the master armorer.”
I turned to face a woman with a heart-shaped face. Her black hair was cut short around her ears in heavy layers, as if she’d gotten sick of it and hacked it off. She wore a fitted top that left her arms bare and she had a crate lifted onto one shoulder. Cords of subtle muscle stood out in that arm.
She only addressed Jerrald. “Did you bring that edge burnisher back?”
“No,” Jerrald admitted.
“Then fuck off.” She was already turning.
Jerrald darted around her. “I’ve got someone here who doesn’t have any armor, not a lick.”
Her face softened as her eyes met mine before guarding it again. “The same as many of these folks. The farmgirls and boys are pouring in, most of them with only a rusty scythe and a grandparent’s dented breastplate.”
“This is a special case,” Jerrald insisted. He leaned close. I tilted my head, trying to hear what he didn’t want others to. “She’s a witch. The queen’s own favored one. But her powers won’t protect her from a sharp blade in the stomach.”
The woman dropped the crate and I flinched at both the noise and Jerry’s comment.
“Well, then, a proper witch.” Dunham’s eyebrows went up and she crossed her arms as she appraised me. “Are you a soothsayer?”
I shook my head.
“A bog witch? A spellcaster? One of ‘em potion brewers?”
I shook my head to them all. “I’m actually a witch’s apprentice.”
“And what are your powers?”
I took a breath. “Knowledge of the future...and interdimensional traveling.”
Her eyes bugged slightly, which I hoped meant that she was impressed. “Amelia Dunham,” she said.
“Dottie of Mayfair.”
Jerrald was quick to jump in. “So, do you think you can do something for her?”
“Aye, maybe something small. We can’t have our magical folk at risk. Not when we’re up against a mage.”
“Amelia met a bog witch when she was a child,” Jerrald explained.
Amelia spun me around, taking in my maroon dress as she talked.
“Gave me a ripe, red apple that fixed a festering wound. Been trying to make sure no one gets the same ever since.” She pulled the dagger from my side before I could stop her, then gave a hearty laugh.
“What’s this wee little knife?” She grew interested in the make of it though, examining the fine details on the scroll that came across the middle of my hand.
Soon enough, Amelia was sizing material of all kinds against me and I thanked Jerrald again for his help.
He gave a small smile under his beard, a sly one. “You can thank me another time. It’s good to have a witch’s apprentice in one’s debt.” Before I could reply, he winked and left.
I would gladly do him a favor—I just hoped he wasn’t expecting me to give him a pendant of invisibility or something.
Handfuls of servants, a stray knight, and others out doing their own business stopped to watch Amelia work on me, providing free comment on the likelihood I’d meet my end on the battlefield.
“There’s naught to her but weak arms. You’d think a witch could give a strengthening spell or two.” It was the laundress I’d passed in the hall. Others muttered their agreement.
“She won’t last one cloud’s shade in battle,” a man declared.
I opened my mouth to protest—I’d survived one whole battle already, even if I spent most of it hidden with Omar behind a rock—but Amelia was already speaking.
“Not if I can help it,” she said. Amelia fitted a leather frame across my torso and fastened the buckles. Splint mail, she called it.
“So, this goes under the metal armor?” I asked, ignoring my audience.
Amelia tipped her head back and laughed.
“And what would you do with full plate armor? Tilly here’s got it right.
The Dark Mage’s servants wouldn’t have to capture you—you wouldn’t be able to run away under the armor’s weight.
You’d have to ask them to lend a hand if you tripped.
” Others chuckled as she ribbed me, and I gave a small smile back.
She dipped down to fasten something around my waist, and I caught a glimpse of long, silky hair across the room. My heart thumped.
Ironclaw was speaking to an older man, thin, with thick eyebrows. He handed Ironclaw a long wrapped item. A new sword?
Ironclaw turned to leave but caught my eye. He looked my splint mail up and down, and I felt myself blush. I shook my hair to the side slightly to give him a better view.
“Good to go.” Amelia slapped me on the back.
I thanked her, but she had already moved on to the next person in line.
I left through the same door Ironclaw did, hoping to catch him. I had to make him see I wasn’t an enemy if anything was going to bloom between us.
I rushed into the hallway, guessed that he went left, and hurried around the corner. I ran full force into something that knocked me flat on my back. I struggled to sit up in the still stiff leather armor. Before I could take a breath, I was lifted to my feet.
“Following me?” Ironclaw was so close I could smell wood smoke and sawdust on him. And...something floral?
I swallowed back words, as they wouldn’t come anyway, and shook my head, still collecting my breath. I pointed at the leather strapped across my chest. He had seen me in the armory. What else would I be doing? I mean, besides following him, which I absolutely was doing.
My voice came back. “I don’t know the layout of the castle,” I said weakly, and cleared my throat. “Could you help me get back to the great hall for dinner?”
The set of his mouth didn’t flex, but something in his eyes shifted. “Are you okay?” he asked gruffly.
“Oh yeah, it’s good luck to break in new armor, right?”
“I’ve never heard that before.”
“Right...the great hall?” I prompted him.
He gestured ahead and we fell into step with each other.
I cast about for some way to convince him I wasn’t a political threat and was, in fact, a ravishing beauty he should invite to ride double with him tomorrow.
His black doublet had a bear claw woven in silver thread on his chest.
“Where I’m from,” I said, pointing at it, “we have three types of bears—brown, black, and polar.”
He took that in. “I’ve seen bears with both brown and black fur. What is polar?”
“A polar bear. White fur. Ten feet tall. Hunts people.” It was a good thing I hadn’t mentioned panda or sun bears.
He eyed me warily. “And you’ve seen one of these beasts?”
“Yes,” I said, thinking of my trip to the Lincoln Park Zoo. I turned, forcing him to stop. “I’m from a distant land, but I’m not your enemy, nor an enemy to your queen.”
“I see.” He paused, seeming to fight for words. “It’s true I was hoping to have a word alone with you, Lady Mayfair.”
Something lit inside me.
He looked pensive, withdrawn in some way. “I’ve been on a quest to find my sister, the Lady Bianca. Would your witch have any way to track her?”
I took a moment to compose myself. This was the quest that started everything.
After Bianca was captured by bandits, Ironclaw never let go of hope his sister was still alive, somewhere.
But I wasn’t the one who should share the end of her story with him, nor was this the right time.
I licked my lips. “The Witch of Mayfair did in fact give me a message concerning your sister.” I took a breath. “Keep looking. She’s out there.”
He stopped. There was a sheen over his eyes.
Oh. I was so fixated on trying to hide the particulars of her situation, I forgot I was giving this man the only confirmation he’d had in years that his loved one was still alive. I understood his relief but wanted to prepare him for what was to come.
“But she won’t be the same. You couldn’t expect her to be after all this time.”
Something in his face twisted, as if I’d confirmed the worst.
“Forgive me if I don’t take your word for it.” He stepped toward me, closing the gap, and I felt my heart pound. “Polars and prophecy. These aren’t things a lady should know about.”
I frowned and looked into his dark eyes. I was trying to help if the man would just see it. “I didn’t know you preferred ladies to sit in their towers, embroidering hats.”
Confusion struck his eyes but I powered on. “This land is led by a queen, not a king. And what about Lisa the Quick? Barla of the Green Valley? The Last Star? All women who fight.”
“I have nothing against women who defend their queendom, but the dark powers are no laughing matter. Turn at the last arch. You’ll find your way to the great hall.” He swept away from me and I only stared after him.
Damn. Why, oh why, hadn’t I introduced myself as a traveling bard or something when I first arrived at the castle?
Did he have something against magic in general?
I filtered through the books in my mind.
Besides his animosity toward the Dark Mage specifically, he’d never said he was against magic.
Plus, he was happy enough to use my abilities to get word of his sister.
Things had soured after I said it’d been a long time. Did he think I was faulting him for not finding Bianca sooner?
Or perhaps Draw was right: Ironclaw wasn’t logical.
I sighed as I turned into the great hall, the windows showing evening coming on.
Food wasn’t out yet, but others were sitting and waiting as well. I spied Meg from the dormitory and went to sit by her.
“Lady Dottie,” she said. She gestured next to her and asked if I’d like some wine.
I was thirsty so I nodded.
As we sat, Meg told me she’d been out collecting herbs with the medic guilds that day. It was true her braids had a few flyaways, as if she’d spent the day in the elements.
I let her chat as I drank more wine. She was abominably polite in a court where it seemed everyone wanted to take a chunk out of me.
“Will you be leaving tomorrow as well?” I asked.
“Yes, as a forager.”
I was happy to hear it. I could use a friend in the face of whatever it was that was coming.
Then, I saw her eyes dart to a corner. A man with fine, light brunet hair swept into a low ponytail peeped back at her. He excused himself from the conversation he was in.
“Oh, well, I’ve got to go, Lady Dottie.” She seemed suddenly full of anticipation, and took off without waiting for my response.
I poured myself more wine and made a low noise in my throat. A woman startled and moved away on the bench.
Last-minute hookups before taking to the roads. That’s what I was supposed to be doing.
I sipped from my wooden cup.
The bench shifted as someone sat next to me.
Ironclaw?!
“Are you quite all right?”
Oh. Draw.
“Weehl,” I said in the hard accent of the Midwest, “I’m not quite a light?” I pondered what it was I’d just said. Seemed funny but Draw didn’t laugh.
“Are you drunk?” he hissed.
“It’s only wine.”
He looked down his nose in disappointment, rose, and brought back a pitcher. I shuddered when I saw he was pouring me a glass of water.
“‘S’ere’s little bugs in there.”
Draw clutched the cup as he peered at the water. “No, there’s not. You need to sober up. What if the queen should call for you?”
“She already thinks I’m weird.”
“She already thinks you’re dangerous. You maintain your position of safety by being valuable to her.” He pushed the tankard at me, but I shook my head. He rolled his eyes and took a drink. “See? Just fine. Stop that!” he barked when I pushed the cup back. “Take it.”
“But I can only drink clean water,” I panicked.
“Do you think it came from a swamp? It’s rainwater, you goose.”
“Oh,” I said, mollified and took a sip.
Survival instincts took over and I glugged the rest of the tankard. Draw poured me another cup, which I drank more slowly this time.
“Stay here,” he said as if I were a badly behaved pet, then disappeared for a good ten minutes before returning with a plate of poached pears over pearl onions and grain. He set it in front of me, nothing for himself. “Eat,” he commanded.
I did just that as he poured another cup of water.
The food was good, but it was the water that was doing wonders for my constitution. I’d been very dehydrated for over a day and didn’t notice it until now. When I turned to thank Draw, he was gone.