It was hardly a speck on the horizon, but if I squinted I could make out the vague form of something in the distance - some building, I guessed, like a toothpick.
“That’s Coernet?” I asked, hand on my brow to block the downward-racing sun.
Naomi huffed. “No,” she said. “That’s only Harfin. But it means we’re close.”
“How close?” I asked, suspicious, but she didn’t answer, only rushed ahead as if in a hurry to arrive. Which, I supposed, we all were.
We all picked up our pace with the promise of civilization ahead. Cadoc’s voice came from over my shoulder. “Will there be potions there, then?”
“Maybe,” Naomi said. “Should be something, at least. Something to hold Amaia over.”
Amaia grunted at the mention of her name, but said nothing else.
The way to the town - Harfin - was a straight shot from there, the river straightening its path as if needing to be on its best behavior for the approaching guests. And like a welcoming party suddenly there were ships everywhere, the river busy with activity even as afternoon settled upon the water. Most of the vessels were small, and seemed to be fishing with nets, spry men of various ages pulling lines. But one larger ship did pass us down the Blood, wide white sails like something out of an old painting, sails which drooped uselessly in the still air as the ship continued moving all the same.
But we didn’t stay along the water’s edge for long. Soon we spied a path to our right among the trees, and, following it, that path soon joined a narrow and overgrown road of dirt, the other end of which disappeared into the northwest, swallowed by the forest - which had grown thicker as we moved south, I now noticed. The road seemed like it hadn’t been used in years, the wilderness beginning to reclaim it, but still I was thankful for it - in places the wood would have been too choked with vegetation to pass through without it, while the clay edge of the Blood was hardly a foot wide there, the water high and lapping against the trunks of trees, which I could see only through gaps in the wall of wood quickly forming.
Do rivers have tides? I thought, slightly embarrassed by my lack of knowledge. I didn’t think so. Flooding, maybe. Minor, I hoped, because I was in town to get help, not to give it.
I could no longer see the town ahead past the trees, though I was fairly sure we were still heading the right way. I was still following Naomi, stealing glances at her whenever the maneuvering through brush left her momentarily exposed.
“Stealing” glances is not the right way to put it. The looks were repayments. Perhaps she wasn’t repaying me voluntarily, I reasoned, but that only made me like a bounty hunter, or, ironically, like a debt collector, taking by force what she owed me by right.
She owed me, and as this cost her nothing - she didn’t even notice, I imagined - it was only right that I should snatch away a look at her breast peeking out of the slit in her dress as she slipped sideways between two trees, the fabric pulled aside, caught on the bark, and only right that I should, ducking under some low-hanging branches, following her almost on hands and knees, look up and ahead at her callipygous form between strips of golden thread.
It would have been better if she was ugly. Every bit of debt repaid only made the debt itself more onerous, like eating food that only awakens your hunger.
Suddenly, with all of the shock of exiting a dark cave into harsh sunlight - I should know - the trees were gone, revealing a wide clear area of hard dirt ground before wooden palisade walls. The walls were not much taller than a man, the top a series of points like a wall made of sharpened spears. The tops of roofs peaked over them from the other side. Beside it, just within the wall, was a wooden tower, three times taller than the wall itself. It was a watchtower, clearly.
In the sudden clearing I felt like a criminal caught in the act, and I scrambled to my feet. The shouting came next, which again quickened my heartbeat.
“Who goes there!” A voice from the tower. Blocking the sun again with one hand, I could just see the figure. He seemed to be holding a bow.
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“Travelers!” Cadoc shouted back before the rest of us could respond. “And one of our number wounded! Will you let us inside to seek aid?”
The watchman lowered his bow slightly, but did not put it away. “Travelers from where?” he asked. “No traffic comes by that road in these days.”
Then why are you guarding it, I wanted to say, but instead I shouted “Eraztun. We come from Eraztun.”
The watchman laughed, and finally set down his bow. “Come,” he said. “I will open the gate.”
I had expected more interrogation, and the way he laughed made me think I had accidentally used a code word, a secret joke, rather than that he believed me. But we approached the gate all the same.
It was a simple construction, two wide doors which swung outwards. As we stepped inside, I could see that there was a place on the doors to bar them, and that this entrance funneled through a narrow hall of further walls, with gaps where arrows could have passed through. A killing hall, in case intruders made it past the gates.
But the guard was standing there, smiling, hands on his hips and he looked us up and down shamelessly.
“Eraztun” he said, shaking his head. “I would not have believed you, if you did not have such a look on desperation on your faces, and if your clothes were not little more than rags. What brings you to Harfin?”
“Injury,” I said. “Remember?”
“Oh, right, yes,” he said. “I apologize. Who is…”
He stopped, and it was obvious that he was staring at Amaia’s arm, black like it had been burned to charcoal. She didn’t seem to mind the staring, only stared back, seeming half oblivious to her surroundings - which worried me, a little.
“Oh,” the guard said. “You are lucky to be alive. Come. I will show you to our Apothecary. Though there is little they can do here.”
Before I had time to respond - in anger, of course - Naomi spoke. Suddenly she was at the guard’s side, almost whispering in his ear. “Thank you, oh guard, oh wondrous, uh, watchman. Would you, like, do me the honor of answering me a question or two as we walk?”
The watchman squinted in suspicion - or so it looked. “I suppose.” He turned to one side and called to someone else, hidden behind some corner. The other person called back, and after a quick exchange, the watchman’s duty was taken over by his companion, and he was free to lead us into the town.
The man’s name was Furtov, he told us. He told us a lot more as well, none of which I cared to hear and most of which I’d have trouble remembering even if you tried to torture it out of me. I mostly ignored him, looking around at the town.
It wasn’t very large, but it wasn’t small either. I could quickly see the opposite wall in the distance. Still, it was bustling, and the buildings were crammed close together - not so close as in Dross, but it did bear a certain resemblance.
The town was roughly rectangular, walled in on three sides by the palisade, and on the fourth by Zinthur’s Blood. The riverside seemed almost a long, continuous harbor, ships of all descriptions - though mostly small fishing vessels - tied to shore at every possible location. My first impression was that there must have been nearly as many boats as people - like cars back home, I mused. As a result, however, the air smelled strongly of fish.
The town itself was a tinderbox, a series of wooden structures, dignified, most thatched roofed but some with simple shingles of clay. It all looked so flammable, and I felt like I would need to be careful, else I would burn the whole place down by accident.
Some townspeople stared as we passed, and I was certain it was because of how haggard we looked. They were mostly pale in complexion, brown haired and stout - though there was some variance, and also some among them which stood out, which I assumed to be travelers from the south.
Furtov was leading us down a wide avenue which ran from the gate we had entered straight to the gate on the opposite end. He was telling us how boring his job was, guarding the North Gate, and how happy he was to have something to do, for once.
“No one comes from the North?” Amaia asked. I was happy she was feeling good enough to speak, at least.
“Not no one,” Furtov answered. “Just… well, nevermind that.”
“This apothecary you’re taking us to,” Naomi cut in, “Are they, um, associated with anyone in particular?”
“Associated?”
She cleared her throat. “I mean, like, are they independent? Do they make their potions themselves?”
Furtov nodded. “I believe so. You’ll have to ask when we get there. I know they import some things, though. Potions we don’t have the ingredients for here, I suppose.”
Naomi sidled up next to the man, nearly tripping him. “And do you know who they import from? You would be doing me, like, a huge favor if you knew.”
“Who?” Furtov stammered. “They come from Coernet, or at least they must, I think they must, I mean, well, yes, I don’t recall exactly, but yes, some seller in Coernet.”
“I see,” Naomi said, and quickly separated from Furtov without another word, falling back among the rest of us as we followed him.
“What was that about?” I whispered to her.
“Oh, are we friendly now?” she barked back. “I didn’t realize. You going to take off this necklace then?”
I didn’t respond. It was dumb of me to have even asked her.
“I know you’re in a hurry,” Furtov started up again, “But, and I hope you’ll forgive me saying this, you ought to buy some new clothes once you’ve got your injury sorted. Or delayed. If not, someone might mistake you for a traveling brothel!”
He laughed loudly at his own joke, then stopped, blushing, when he noticed that none of us were laughing along.
Finally we arrived at a small wooden building, not much larger than a shed, with a sign outside with a picture of a flask painted on it.
“Here we are,” Furtov said. “Tell them Furtov sent you, and they’ll do you right. I’ve got to get back to the tower before Turya notices I’m gone. I wish you the best of luck, travelers. Come see me again some time. I’d love to hear of your tales.”
Cadoc was the only one who answered. He grasped the man’s shoulder, looked him dead in the eye, and said, “Thank you. Your kindness will be remembered. We would be honored to regale you of our adventures, another time.”
Furtov smiled, said goodbye again, and was off.
“Friendly town,” I said, after he had left.
“An idiot,” Naomi said.
“Really?” I asked. “I thought perhaps you were going to marry him, the way you were talking.”
“You are a greater idiot then.”
My face twitched. “You should talk with more respect to the man who holds your life in his hands.”
“Leave me alone,” she said. “I’m not your slave.”
“Debatable.”
She huffed, and hurried inside, pushing open the door into the apothecary. I followed, likely huffing as well. I caught Cadoc’s playful smile out of the corner of my eye. It was all a game to him, I supposed.
But I remembered Amaia’s arm. It wasn’t the time to think about anything else, not yet. I prayed that they would have a cure inside, despite what the watchman said.