Chapter 10 #2
At dusk on the sixth day after I left Horgansten, I came across three wolves.
A white one in front, perhaps twenty paces from me, and two with gray coats farther into the forest, peering out from behind trees.
I stopped on my path and held the first’s stare.
Ironically, my first thought was I have company.
But fear soon overwhelmed loneliness.
I can endure it, I told myself, even as I trembled. I would go into my lumis and heal it as they tore into my flesh. Heal and fight, heal and fight, until they gave up. Though with the scarcity of food and the exhaustion from travel and magic, surely I would lose my strength before they did.
I thought of Eden, of her promise. I will die before I go back.
But if I died, I feared Renn would, too. I couldn’t risk it. So I lifted my chin and stared down the white wolf, tense, ready to fight with everything I had.
We stood like that for nearly a quarter hour before the wolf turned away and sprinted back into the trees.
That night I dozed on the heavy bough of a spruce, and in the morning, I left the forest behind.
I found a small road and took it southeast, stopping a band of musicians once to ask for directions to Catalaine.
They directed me, and the following day I found a sign for it at a crossroads.
My relief was so great I nearly fainted with it, then smiled to myself, knowing the sensation would be passed along to Renn.
Sure enough, moments later, I felt the faintest tendrils of confusion and hope wind through my chest.
I’d made better time than I’d hoped; rations from Elantriana’s home greatly reduced my need to forage, and the underbrush of the forest hadn’t slowed me too badly. But this sign claimed I had only twelve miles to Catalaine, and that lent me a little more energy.
However, as I spied the city over the hills—the first true city I’d laid eyes on since Rodsfell—my hope died as a moth succumbing to flame.
Soldiers.
There were several of them just outside the city, which likely meant there were more within it.
I saw no tents or camp, so Catalaine was either their station or they were boarding there.
I shook with hunger and with fear, contemplating my best course of action.
Elantriana may have headed back to Horgansten by now, and even if she hadn’t, I had no address nor means of finding her here.
I uttered a quiet prayer to Hem, the god of kings and justice, that Eden had not been recognized.
And to Salm, god of the sea, that she had made it across the strait safely.
And to Zia, begging her to look upon me kindly and not take the side of the man who believed himself to be her son.
Zia, the goddess of women and womanly things, the youngest of the pantheon and the most overlooked.
I sat on the other side of a hill, hiding myself from Catalaine, pleading with her to help me, pleading to be spared.
As darkness began creeping over the sky, I offered a similar prayer to Hem: If you don’t care for me, care for Renn.
He is one of yours, and if I fall, I fear he will fall as well.
I assured myself that Renn Reshua Noblewight had borne a completely shattered lumis when I’d met him yet still lived. Perhaps, even if I died, the gods would continue to favor him.
Gods-touched. I hoped it was true.
On that thought, I looked down at my hands, studying them despite knowing I ought to move soon, while there was some light left. I did not want to be a lone woman in the dark in a strange city full of soldiers.
I would never feel ready, so I tucked my hair into my dress in an attempt to make it look shorter before heading into Catalaine, following one of the roads, trying my best to walk like I belonged there.
When I thought I felt a soldier looking my way, I waved to a random man dropping an empty barrel outside an inn and greeted him as though I knew him.
Unsure, he waved back, and I hurried along, wondering how I’d possibly make it to the strait.
I could not see the ocean from Catalaine, but when the wind blew right, I could smell it.
I had a few coins I’d kept from my work with Elantriana’s clients, though not enough to see me easily by.
I moved away from the soldiers I’d seen upon entering the city and searched for a place to stay in the rapidly descending night.
Stopping at a small public house advertising rooms on a winding street, I opened the door.
Only one table was occupied, by an older couple. No soldiers.
A stunning, rotund woman worked the counter, and immediately I knew I could not afford this place, not if she ate and dressed so well on its earnings. But it was dark, and I had to try.
She smiled at me, ignoring the obvious travel wear of my clothing. “How can I help you?”
I put on my best Sestan accent. “I’m trying to find a place to stay; I got in late, and my husband’s caravan was delayed. But my allowance has nearly run out. Do you have a small space? I don’t need a meal.”
My stomach grumbled in protest.
She pursed her mouth in a way that made me think of Renn’s mother. “I have two rooms, but they’re each three silver merits.”
Fear pulsed in my chest. “I see. I don’t suppose I could work off what I don’t have?”
She shook her head. “I’ve plenty of staff, miss. But the Green Dragon down the way might have what you’re looking for.”
I glanced over my shoulder to the window by the door. Black outside. Keeping my voice down, I said, “I can give you five copper merits if you just let me sleep on the kitchen floor. I . . . I really don’t want to go out in the city again. Not by myself.”
She considered me a moment, and Zia had mercy on me, for she understood my need and agreed to the fee, taking most of my coin in exchange for a wool blanket on the floor by the dying fire in the tight kitchen.
I thanked her profusely and laid my head down on the stone, eager to fall asleep and regain my energy.
I woke up easily at dawn, having tossed and turned the night through with discomfiting dreams. The cook, a woman who from behind looked like my deceased mother, didn’t speak to me.
But as I fixed myself up and headed to leave, she handed me a sleeve of roasted nuts, and I blessed her in the name of all six gods, twice.
I took the busiest roads.
I did this in hopes of blending in, for there were indeed more soldiers in the city, and I did not want them to notice me, should word of my escape have reached this far.
I searched faces as I went, hoping to see women who looked like me.
Some were close, but their hair was straight, or their eyes were brown.
At one point, in the market, a soldier with one silver mark on his collar locked gazes with me.
Terrified, I smiled at him and tried to be on my way, but he approached regardless, scanning me head to toe.
“Who are you?” he asked.
I opened my mouth to answer but paused.
Who am I?
I knew the correct answer. That was, the lie I had practiced time and time again. And yet being faced head-on with the question struck something in me. Who am I?
I knew who I’d been, but I wasn’t sure I understood what I had become.
Yet before and now, I’d been a survivor, and those instincts kicked in.
“Elantriana,” I answered, painting myself a Sestan identity.
When the man seemed satisfied, I dipped away as a man with a cart passed through, ensuring he could not ask me any follow-up questions.
I followed the cart to the end of the road, then asked the driver—a farmer, guessing by his green cincture—where he was going.
“To Klepton,” he answered.
“Klepton,” I repeated in my Sestan accent. “Is that far?”
He laughed. “Is the ocean far?” Regarding me, he added, “You’ve got a dialect on you. Where are you from?”
“Rodsfell.” The lie came easily.
He whistled. “No wonder. Happy to give you a ride for a kiss.” He winked at me. I could just make out the faded leather cord of his wedding pendant tucked beneath his shirt.
I acted bashful. “On the cheek only, sir. I’m saving myself for my husband, and I doubt your wife would appreciate such a gift.”
He laughed again. “That old bag doesn’t care a whit what I do, long as I bring home pay.” He pointed to the apple of his cheek, above his whiskers. Concerned he’d try to take more, I gave in and pecked him quickly before he could turn his head.
“The rest when we arrive.” I winked and slid onto the back of his cart. I hid my disgust at the exchange. To say my options were limited was an overstatement.
I was not tired, but I unfurled the blanket I’d stolen from Eden’s room, turning it over so the plain side faced up, and wrapped it around me as though I planned to sleep.
It gave me an excuse to hide my face. But, as distance swept by, my fatigue got the better of me, and I did slip away a moment, my head propped up on a crate.
I didn’t wake until later, one side of my face hot from the sun, to a voice asking, “Who is this?”
I looked up to see three Sestan soldiers inspecting the cart.