Day 12, 9:30 AM
“I don't need a friend who changes when I change and who nods when I nod; my shadow does that much better.”
— Plutarch
I leave Manuella on the shore, along with our belongings. We’re close to Namir, and I think we didn’t catch any fleas. It’s something I never expected I’d consider, having fleas I mean, especially when rowing a small boat to the middle of the river in the nude, intending to sink it. Another thing few people ever expect to experience. One might say life is full of surprises.
Hell, even tomorrow is riddled with countless surprises, I don’t dare think about life.
I’m far enough from the shore, and I bang my bare heel against the most rotten plank. I expected more resistance, but the wood snaps beneath my foot like nothing and water flows in.
I jump into the water, and by the time I reach the shore, the boat is already gone. Manuella looks at me. There’s no evaluation, longing, lust, malice… I don’t know. It’s not an empty stare. There is something in those eyes. Something… positive? I think? I discard the wishful thought, and focus on what’s before us.
“Do you think this was enough to throw off pursuit?” I ask.
She nods while I don one of the two cheap woolen tunics with short sleeves I have bought for us. I reckoned cheaper, more common clothes would help us better blend into the crowd.
“How did you know which sized clothes and boots to buy for me?” she asks.
Luckily, I considered this question long before she asked it.
I look at her blankly, like I’m trying to process her words then smile apologetically.
“To be honest, I didn’t. I didn’t even know whether you would follow me in my escape. All the clothes and boots are sized for me. You can tell because I only bought one towel, we need to buy another one for me in Namir.” The towel slip up came in handy, but I really should buy one for myself.
“Do you have any suggestions on what we should do next?” She nods slowly, and I seize the chance to change the topic. “Any extra supplies you think we need? I was thinking about buying a reinforced walking staff. I can’t use swords, but I’m good with clubs, and I think a staff is just a big club.”
She looks at me like I’m dumb. I missed that look. There’s no mystery in it. There is almost nothing for me to consider, nothing to guess. It’s so honest.
“If you say so,” she says, and I have to snip that troublesome line of thinking in the bud.
“No.” My voice grows sharp. “We will have none of that. You are my partner. If I say something stupid, you will point it out. You won’t patronize me, and you won’t let me do something stupid because you assume I know what I’m doing. We could die that way. I’m intelligent, but my knowledge is limited, and I appreciate anything you have to say. Any feedback, any input. Now, what’s the problem with what I said about staves?”
“A traveling staff is not the same as a war staff,” she says seriously. “War staff is made of harder wood, reinforced with steel and hardened in fire. Traveling staff is just a pealed, smooth branch.”
I smile and nod.
“Thank you. Then, I need a shaft of some tool, like a spade? That’s sturdier, right?”
She nods and hesitates a moment before speaking. “A heavy spear’s shaft should be close to the ideal choice. Maybe if you ask the blacksmith to reinforce it with several steel bands like a real war staff?”
“We’ll go with that. Do you have any other suggestions? Where do we go? How do we get there? You must have fantasized about escape more than I have. If you have no ideas, I’ll think of something, but it’s obvious you’re a smart woman. And your input so far was to get a flea bag instead of a milk bucket.”
She turns silent for a moment and assumes her thinking pose, looking down, her lips pursed. I give her all the time she needs, and several seconds later she looks back at me.
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“I have one more suggestion about your weapon. When you have the time, have a smith make a bronze or steel long staff for you. It would be an extremely lethal weapon in your hands, if you can wield it. Then, after some training, you can affix an ax head or a blade on the one end and use it like a real polearm.”
That sounds great! I could use it as a giant war hammer.
“Regarding everything else.” She draws a deep breath and starts talking. “You have an obscene amount of gold for a commoner, even after wasting money on a boat you just sank. Wealth is an asset, but we cannot flaunt it. Not just because of cutthroats, but wealthy patrons leave impressions, and those searching for us will follow the money. It was a great idea to buy conspicuous clothes which we discarded only to replace them with average looking peasant garbs for real travel.”
I smile. She’s just complimenting herself. All I did was follow her instructions from back in the forest while we were running away the first time.
“We should never sleep in inns, it would be best if we slept in the wilds until we reach a safe destination. We should always assume the worst. Viscount’s Hassel’s horseback messengers can reach Namir in five days. That means, if they left Amplegord right after us, they will be here in two days. We have to disappear long before then.”
What if they took a boat like us? But I don’t ask the question. Sane people probably don’t sail, carried by the current without stopping for toilet breaks and sleeping on board.
“They will inform Namir’s baron about us, and he will organize a manhunt. Fortunately, we are inconspicuous, and they will focus on boats. However, in three to five weeks, six at most, every town and village large enough will have our portraits.”
She smiles. “Which is good for us. Our allies will learn of my escape, and we may have an easier time organizing an uprising. But back to immediate concerns. Unless we make absurdly foolish choices and expose ourselves, I do not believe viscount Hassel’s retainers can find us. Your plan moved us safely and swiftly outside their reach, but once the king mobilizes the entire kingdom, we will be trapped.”
I expected fear, but she’s invigorated, maybe even excited. Her back grows straighter and she pushes her disguised chest forward.
“We can head for Eaglegord after purchasing supplies.”
Wait. What about Vatgord? You said it’s a loyalist stronghold. But I can’t ask that question, and she keeps talking.
“There I can probably gather allies, my father’s fiercest supporters, and then we can see where we stand. We could get there in two weeks, if we took the roads, but that would be too risky. Our best plan would be to use the roads for three days, then continue through the forests, but even with the roundabout, we should make it in twenty-five days at most.”
“Should we buy more food than?” I ask. “Or should we gather food in the forest once we’re avoiding other settlements?”
My seemingly simple, logical question appears to be much tougher than I expected. She’s frowning and rubbing her lips as I motion her to start walking away from the river and towards the road.
“Gathering food in the forest is safer, even if it costs us more time. But I can’t help you with that. I know nothing about herbs, and I would need a bow to hunt. But even if we had one, my skill has certainly degraded over the years, not that I was ever a master marksman.”
I pat her on the back, then realize my faux pas. She didn’t do or say anything, but her bearing changed, like a startled deer.
“Sorry, I’ll try to refrain from familiar moves. Now, what I wanted to say is I will find food for us. It might not be much, but I can recognize some edible plants, and I can hit a bird or a rabbit with a stone from a distance. They are as good as roasted, assuming I hit them.” I think about it for a moment, and I’m fairly certain I can kill a deer too, but I don’t say it. I’m afraid I might jinx us.
That’s ridiculous, I’m acting like Lea. And yet, I mention nothing about deer, focusing on the well-maintained, paved road several yards away.
Manuella has a lot of suggestions before we reach Namir an hour later. The most notable idea was to find at least one more male traveling companion, because if everyone is searching for a man and a woman, few would connect it with a party of three men who just passed them.
However, traveling as two men is the best we can do for now. Neither Manuella nor I would trust a third person, not for several days at least. Not until Redo is ready.
My ears tell me Namir is a bustling place. The river port is too small to have a proper wall, but a palisade surrounds it to protect the residents from wild animals, revealing nothing but dark thatched roofs. As we draw near I spot a thirty-forty feet of stone wall next to the murky water. They seem old and they are either ancient ruins, or a long-dead local lord’s abandoned project to upgrade his walls and town.
The palisade isn’t all that tall, some seven feet, just tall enough to obstruct the view of the town and maybe deter a wandering bear or something.
I don’t think that would stop an army. It might not even help against a large party of bandits. I take a moment before registering what I’m thinking about. Weird. I’m already planning to play Spartacus and attack villages.
I smirk as we approach the wooden gate.
What do I do? Well, it’s a gate.
I knock.
“Good day,” I say, stopping myself from jokingly adding, ‘is anyone home?’
There’s creaking and scraping, then a bald, elderly man opens the door. He’s skinny, his clothes simple and just as dirty as the rest of him.
“Good day,” he says, a few teeth short of a full set, and lets us in without asking questions.
Well. That was easy?