Coral did not have any better luck finding Silas than Pearl had. They walked from one end of the village to the other and did not find a trace of him. Direwood was far busier than she had expected. People were busy unloading carts of goods that had arrived either by boat or caravan. Three travelling vendors, heavily surrounded both by interested customers and hired guards all who looked a little worse for wear, had set up right along the street’s edge. They were all travel worn. The hired guards’ armour was scratched, dented and filthy, and the vendors, though clearly scrubbed up and far cleaner, had a bedraggled look as though they had ridden hard all night to be here. Which was a perfectly viable possibility, considering the next town over, Epril, was at least a week’s ride away.
Their caravans were a burst of colour against the backdrop of Direwoods grey stone walls. One vendor had bolts of cloth on display, ranging from soft cotton, wool, leather and sturdier fabrics suitable for harder work out in the field. There were no silks or velvets, much to Pearl’s disappointment. Coral on the other hand thought that they knew their business well. Most of Direwood’s residents would not earn coin enough to buy luxuries such as silk, nor would they often have a use for that kind of fabric except on special occasions when their best finery would be pulled from the depths of their cupboards and aired for use. Those that did have the coin, were far more likely to pay for the cost of shipping.
The vendor also had a small array of clothing, a jumbled mix of styles collected from other towns on their way through. Most were second hand, carefully mended by the vendors wife. Clearly, their best seller was the well-used and scuffed armour. It drew the attention of the people on the streets, most stopping to take a look at what was available. A father held up a thickly padded gambeson coat against his son who couldn’t be older than eight, where it fell well past his knees.
“It’s too big,” the boy complained with a pained look.
“Quiet, you’ll wear it if I tell you to,” the father grumbled back. The boy scowled and looked away, mouthing something silently as his father’s attention was focused on passing a handful of coins to the vendor. The boy shuffled away, leaving a clear view of the wares.
A pair of high-waisted trousers caught Coral’s attention and she came closer to inspect them. They were a charcoal grey, and in a fabric that wouldn’t stain as easily, even if it was a little rougher to the touch than she was used to. That wouldn’t matter if it allowed her to move about freely. Chores would be easier if she didn’t have to contend with her skirts. After much deliberation, during which time three more people came and went with a new protective piece of clothing. They had all given Coral a wide berth as the black snapdragon still coiled around her shoulders became interested in what they were doing.
Coral decided she could spare a few copper coins on the pants. It did take away from the funds to repair and improve the rooms, but it was a better investment than having to constantly scrub stains from her skirts. She passed over seventeen copper coins, and ignored the wide-eyed look Pearl was giving her. Trousers were something Pearl wouldn’t ever put on.
The other two venders had begun to shout out their wares to the street, opening one side of their caravan and displaying spices and sugar that wouldn’t be seen for months. When winter arrived, the roads iced over and made traveling difficult. Coral and Pearl hadn’t gone too far down the road before they stopped at one of these vendors to buy sugar. A completely necessary and important ingredient if Pearl was going to continue baking.
Pearl approached the vender with an eager smile. “I only want a kilo or two. How much would-“
“Get your sugar from Cravings and Delirium,” interrupted a woman who came bustling up to them.
Coral had seen the woman working in Witching Flour before, though she hadn’t spoken to her. It appeared the woman had already bought out the sugar and flour from the other traveling vendors, judging by the fact that she already carried a large sack over her shoulder. A young apprentice stood several feet back, face shining with sweat as he balanced several of his own large sacks in his arms.
“I’ll take the lot,” said the woman, brandishing a cloth pouch at the vendor. She was a robust, greying woman who still wore an apron with a dusting of flour.
The vendor, a man with a rather impressive moustache and balding head smiled at the woman. “Mrs. Gianna, a pleasure to see your face after a harrowing trip,” simpered the man.
“Yes, yes. The sugar,” implored Mrs. Gianna, shaking the pouch so the coins clinked.
“Just a moment Ma’am,” Pearl said gently. “I’d like to get my portion of sugar first.”
“Go elsewhere,” Mrs. Gianna said callously, then turned back towards the vendor.
Pearl had a stricken look on her face as she stared at the woman. Coral had expected this sort of behaviour as they drew closer to winter, though it wasn’t easy watching Pearl take offense to the woman’s selfishness.
If Coral hurried, she might be able to purchase a small batch of stinging root and sprinkle that into the woman’s hair. A few days of Mrs. Gianna suffering an itchy rash and the possibility of customers wanting to avoid what appeared to be lice would be a nice little revenge on her sister’s behalf.
The vendor took the proffered pouch and spent a moment to look inside while weighing with his hand. “I’ve ten sacks of flour and seven of the sugar. I’ll do you a deal and you can have all for a silver and fifty-five copper.”
“A silver and fifty-five!” The woman scoffed. “That’s hardly better than Craving’s and Delirium.”
“It’s been a hard few weeks. Lost half my wares here to hobgoblins and had to pay this lot extra for their efforts,” the vendor gestured to the weary guards who had taken the moment to lean against the caravan. They looked half-dead on their feet. One had a nasty cut along his cheek, and another had a large bite that encircled their entire forearm. Parts of it was badly stitched.
“Best head to the Widow’s Poison to take a look at that bite. It looks infected,” said the moustached vendor. “I need you for the trip back.”
“Quit your nagging you old hag. I’ll go when I’ve had my rest,” the guard said impatiently.
Coral and Pearl’s journey hadn’t been too dangerous, with only a creature or two that had given the hired guards trouble. These people looked as if they had met far more dangerous monsters while out on the roads.
The vendor turned back to Mrs. Gianna. “That’s my price, take it or be off with you,” he said.
“A silver and five,” Mrs. Gianna said, squinting her eyes at the vendor.
“Silver and ten.”
The woman puffed her cheeks out, looking angry enough to hit the man. “A silver and seven,” she countered.
“I’ll pay a silver and ten,” Coral said.
All three of them turned to look at Coral in surprise. Coral waited patiently as Mrs. Gianna assessed her. The woman’s eyes raked over her fine dress, and strayed a little too long on the snapdragon that was sniffing the air.
“Fine,” snapped Mrs. Gianna. “A silver and eleven. Here,” she threw a few more bronze coins at the vendor, who snatched them out of the air.
“A pleasure, as always Mrs. Gianna,” he said as he went to the back of his caravan and unloaded large, heavy sacks of flour and sugar on to the ground. The woman, to her credit, stacked five sacks up onto her shoulders and turned back towards the bakery up the lane.
“I’ll be back in a moment for the rest of it,” she said in a huff. The young boy followed her. Coral watched them go, mildly wondering if she had just earned herself a high price for baked goods if she went to Witching Flour.
“Anything I can interest you in,” said the vendor when the woman was out of earshot, drawing Coral’s attention.
“No,” Coral said blandly and was turning away when the vendor held out a hand to stop her.
“Not even that sugar you wanted?”
This made Coral pause. She turned to look back at the man who was grinning at her. “I’d be a fool to sell all my sugar to Mrs. Gianna. I always hide a few kilos to sell to those who could do with a bit of sweetness in winter.”
Pearl leapt at the opportunity, and included a few extra spices. While the price was still high, it was much better value than if they had ordered more through Cravings and Delirium. What was more, was that he had large slabs of chocolate, which Coral hastened to secure a piece for herself. While she had been unceremoniously locked out of her manor, and hadn’t found a hair of Silas, at least she had this to look forward to.
They handed over thirty bronze coins for the lot, and the vendor was quick to ration out their portions before Mrs. Gianna returned.
Coral and Pearl ambled through town, earning a few glances in thanks to unsuitable dress and an overly curious snapdragon. As her shoulders were exposed from the cut of the dress, it was nice having the snapdragon’s warmth coiled about her neck, and the velvety feel of its stomach was far softer than it’s claws that occasionally slipped and scraped along her skin to keep itself from falling off. More than once, Coral copped a beating to the side of her head with its leathery wings when this happened. It had also at some point grabbed on to her hair and had yanked a small chunk out of the pins that held it in place.
Truthfully, she didn’t mind so much. She couldn’t stay mad at the little creature even if she wanted to. It was too cute.
She and Pearl hadn’t gone too far when the sound of cartwheels and clattering reached her. They drew near the cemetery, where surprisingly the tall wrought iron gates had been left ajar. A cartload of rocks was being brought inside, accompanied by men in rough spun smocks and shovels. A few members of the Adventurer’s Guild stood about the graveyard, looking bored as the cart was driven past the headstones and towards the bridge that crossed the river.
Coral drew level with the cemetery gates, and could see across to the other side, where she could see another cart being halted near the crypt with the tunnel Silas had come bursting from. She watched for a few minutes as a woman dressed in the same rough spun clothing directed them to unload the cart. They worked fairly quickly, piling the rocks in a designated place. From within the crypt itself came a clanging, interrupted every now and then as men emerged to retrieve logs already piled beside the rocks.
As Coral watched, some tension left her shoulders. This was one worry she didn’t have to handle. From the number of rocks and boulders being deposited near the crypt, it was unlikely that any undead would be able to push their way through.
A shout went up, and a shovel that one of the men were using came free of his hands. It hovered for a moment, then swung. It hit the man in the stomach, where he doubled over in pain. Others backed away, their hands reaching for the black stones tied to a leather strip around their necks. The yell had caught the immediate attention of the two Adventurer’s that were standing close to the crypt, far more alert than the ones standing on this side of the cemetery.
They rushed forward, a silver blade already in one hand. The other grabbed the man who had shouted and pulled him aside as the other Adventurer swiped the dagger through the air. Coral couldn’t see what the man had hit, though he had certainly struck something. There was a rend to the air as a shadow coalesced in the sunlight. The blade in the Adventurer’s hand glowed, and with a haunting shriek, the shadow of a ghost was siphoned into the blade. For a moment, the steel shone bright with a sigil, then dulled.
Everyone stood still, waiting for more to happen. Then, the snap of the supervisor’s voice rang out, and the workers went back to work, this time with a little more enthusiasm. The Adventurer’s stood back, alert and watchful.
“Fifth time today. Don’t see why they don’t just be done with ‘em all and cut them all with Shadowsteel,” the driver of the nearest cart grumbled a little too loudly. A worker who was walking beside the cart frowned at him.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
“You want your gran’s soul to be slowly eaten away for all eternity.”
“She probably wouldn’t feel a thing. She’s a spirit now, ain’t she. Bloody undead,” the cart driver said back.
The worker shook their head. “You’re a cold bastard, you know that.”
“Let’s keep moving,” Pearl said, her eyes trained on the open gates. “I don’t want any more ghosts latching on to us.”
“I’m not sure if they do latch on to people. Places, definitely,” Coral said, leading Pearl away from the cemetery.
“I think they do. If I was murdered or some such horrible end came at the hands of a despicable person, I would want to haunt them until their own dying days,” Pearl said darkly.
“You would want to hang around your murderer for years on end? That’s just torturing yourself.”
“Not if I can inflict a bit of torment. I’d make sure they get a beating if I could. Or push them down some stairs.” Pearl hefted the bag of sugar in her arms, adjusting the weight so she could carry it a little easier.
Coral entertained herself with the thought of her gentle, ghostly sister brandishing a wooden spoon to beat an unsuspecting murderer. Wholly deserved, though not quite the punishment Coral would choose.
There was the possibility that she was influencing Pearl. Her sister had certainly never even mentioned anything remotely as vindictive as pushing someone down the stairs. Perhaps Coral should refrain from uttering such notions under her breath when people annoy her. She liked Pearl gentle and kind. If it couldn’t be Coral who was ladylike, then at the very least she would want her sister to continue to be so.
“Well, I suppose I better learn a spell or two to keep us both safe from our would-be murderers,” Coral said. She didn’t bother to mention that they were far more likely to encounter monsters. She had been trying not to think about it.
As they walked, aiming for The Dog’s House, Coral’s attention was drawn away from the bustling road to the Adventurer’s Guild across the river. A boat was docked at the pier, and she recalled seeing the tangerine sails in the weeks before.
“Where do you think they’re from?” Coral asked.
Pearl turned to see what Coral was looking at. “Epril, it’s from the next town over. I remember seeing the town’s Adventurer Guild’s colours. They have a squiggly, flower looking sigil.”
If it was in the shape of a flower, Coral wasn’t surprised at all that Pearl remembered it. She had been so focused on getting to Direwood that Coral had paid little attention to anything except the road as they travelled through each small town.
Coral’s old governess would be appalled at her poor geographical memory.
From here, they had a clear view of some of the youngest apprentices training in the garden by the Adventurer’s guild. They were going through standard drills with wooden swords, all standing in a row and practicing the same movement again and again against a padded dummy. The most determined was Valerie Claysend. Even from this distance, Coral could see the angry determination on her face as she lifted her practice sword and stepped through the movement. Standing outside of the cobblestone fence, her mother watched on.
Coral heaved a sigh to loosen the tension clawing in her chest. She should visit them with a care package. Hopefully they enjoyed chocolate cake.
The black snapdragon shifted its weight and slipped down her front. Coral caught it, though not without having to lean her head back as it flapped its wings. She pushed it back up and found that she had a new scratch along her collar bone, and a small bead of blood was oozing out and had already smeared on to her dress.
Just another thing to add to her cleaning list. There was nothing she could do about it now except to tolerate it. Besides, the dress had already somehow snagged several leaves and twigs at the hem.
They had stepped into the Dog’s House as one of the likeliest places to find Silas. Pearl headed straight upstairs, and Coral made her way to the counter. She found a finely dressed Darius Brown behind the bar, his hair combed back into a low tail to keep from falling in his eyes as he poured ale. His comb was seen peeking out the top of his breast pocket of his storm-grey coat. He had decided to contrast this with a maroon waistcoat, over a pewter grey shirt. Not a speck of dirt could be seen on him. It was a daring choice considering he was working the bar.
“Lady Seaver,” Darius Brown said in way of greeting, though his focus remained on pouring a fresh mug of mead.
“Mr. Brown,” Coral said.
He finished pouring, then held the mug out. For a moment she thought he was passing the drink to her until a calloused hand reached out from behind her. A woman took the mug, then returned to the table she had come from. Coral recognised her from the night she went with Silas to hunt the ghoul. If two of Silas’s team members were here, surely that meant he was about.
“What can I do you for?” Mr. Brown asked. He took out a cloth and began meticulously scrubbing at the already spotless counter.
“I’m looking for Silas,” Coral said.
“I’m afraid I can’t help you there. He’s out at the moment.”
“Do you know when he will be back?”
“No clue. Likely on the hunt, I’d say. When he’s on the trail of something, he won’t let up until he’s done. Can I get you anything? I’ve mead, ale, spiced rum. Something tells me you would enjoy a delightful cherry wine I’ve just got in,” Mr. Brown said.
Coral had to grapple with her tastebuds over her common sense before forcing out her next words. “No, thank you. If you do see Silas, please tell him I am looking for him. It is of great importance that I speak with him.”
Mr. Brown paused in his wiping to look curiously at her. “If it’s trouble you’ve found yourself in, it’s best you head on over to the Adventurer’s Guild.”
“No, not trouble,” Coral said assuredly. Her insides squirmed a little from the lie. “It’s just. Well, I’ve something that Silas would find –interesting.”
“An artefact, or Shadowsteel?”
Coral opened her mouth then paused. She hadn’t thought Silas would be interested in artefacts. Perhaps to sell, but from what Elwin has said, Coral would have guessed Silas had ample opportunity to plunder any forgotten grotto or lost village in the wilds. Mr. Brown took her silence as confirmation to his question and leant forward with a serious expression.
“Crowcaller is upstairs, already into her third drink. If you hurry, you might be able to quell her anger and mention this to her,” he said in a low voice meant only for her ears.
Coral stared at him. She almost said that she didn’t have an artefact until she recalled that she did in fact have something of the sort. The small black crystal box that had led her to Direwood in the first place. It had been found washed up along the river, then somehow made its way to a gambling den, straight to her father’s hands. Now, it was hidden away in her manor.
“Trust me. He’s interested in anything you’ve got. While he’s gone, your best bet is to sell to Crowcaller. They’ll take anything you’ve found. Keep it quiet,” he said. He stood back and resumed wiping down the bench.
Coral hadn’t considered selling the box. Even now, the mere thought of selling something that her father had touched briefly was somehow unsettling. Which was a rather odd notion. She had left behind a house, filled with misery and hunger. She could have fetched a high price for it, if it weren’t for the fact that her betrothed had a hand in the matter. Coral had no qualms against leaving it to whoever that ugly, handlebar moustached man was. She never wanted to step foot in that place again. However, this small box had stirred something deep in her. She wasn’t even sure what it was. It had led to a new path she hadn’t ever thought possible to her. To somewhere she liked the people, her new home, as unsettling as it had been finding a monster in the basement and the rooms riddled with ghosts. The box had been in many ways, her salvation. She was free from Eirek Farley. Free from an unwanted marriage. She didn’t have to tolerate the insufferable aristocracy.
Hope. That was what that box meant to her. She had attached all her hope to an idea that box had given her. Did she really want to sell it? It wouldn’t hurt to find out how much Silas and Crowcaller would offer for it. It could continue her hope, by earning her a few more coins to bring the manor back to its former glory.
Coral turned and came to an abrupt halt. A man stood far too close for comfort, staring fixedly down at her. He was at least a whole foot taller, heavily muscled and smelled as though he hadn’t bathed in weeks. He flashed a wide toothed grin at her, showing off a silver incisor. A portion of his head had been roughly shaved near his right ear, with small scabs dotted where the blade had nicked his scalp, and a gash had been stitched. The rest of his long, unkempt hair had been swept to the side. His grey eyes searched her from head to foot, resting for a moment on the snapdragon coiled about her shoulders.
The man’s proximity was alarming, and in one breath Coral quickly learnt to breathe through her mouth, though this was hardly any better. The stench was so pungeant she could almost taste the sour body odour. Her eyes began to water, and she worked hard to keep her expression neutral.
“Sir,” Coral said, dipping into a brief curtsey then stepped around him.
“So proper. Wait a moment,” he rumbled out in a deep timbre. He held an arm out, blocking Coral’s path. Coral stopped, lest she come into contact with his arm and contract whatever stench permeated from the man. She was sure that the filth curse would simply latch on to that opportunity.
Coral tilted her head so that she could look directly in to the man’s eyes. She hadn’t seen him around the village before. While she was relatively new in Direwood, Coral was sure she had seen everyone who lived here at least once.
“You’re the scurge of Direwood,” the man said in amazement. Coral wasn’t sure how to respond to his statement. She stared back at him, unmoved by either his incredulity or his words. From behind the man, Orvil Norwood sat at a table several paces away, watching. She could see from this distance the hairs bristling as he breathed through that arrow-head nose of his.
So, the sour man had decided to spread further rumours about her to newcomers. She knew he was dirtying her name about town, and she had hoped eventually people would learn who she was and grew tired of the words from the sour lemon of a man. It could hurt her business.
“Leave her be,” Mr. Brown warned. He set a mug of ale down on the bench. “On the house. Sit down and drink up.”
The man took a moment to stare at the mug, then at Coral before reaching out with his other arm to grasp the handle.
“I won’t say no to a free drink,” he grumbled out and took his mug back to the table. A small part of Coral was glad to see Orvil Norwood lean back in his chair and turn his head away as the odorous man sat down.
“Thank you,” Coral said gratefully to Mr. Brown.
Mr. Brown nodded his head once, then returned to his work.
Coral made her way upstairs. At a far corner in one of the plush red chairs, Coral could see the back of Crowcaller’s close cropped hair, rumpled from threading her fingers through it. Pearl was already standing nearby and had said something that made Crowcaller let out a loud, humourless laugh.
“Every year!” Crowcaller said, flinging her arm up to rest atop the seat. She drank deeply from her mug.
Pearl nodded her head in a sympathetic way, then perched herself on the opposite chair. “Why are they so opposed. It would only benefit the town, wouldn’t it?”
“Exactly. Try telling that to them,” Crowcaller said, taking another mouthful of her drink.
Coral walked up to them. Crowcaller rolled her head to one side and lifted her mug in greeting. “The Scurge! Come join me for a drink.”
“It’s a bit early for me,” Coral said, ignoring the quip. She sat down beside Pearl.
Crowcaller cut a fine figure in the Direwood’s guild suit. On closer inspection, the muscles around her left eye twitched, and while she was lounging back in her chair, she kept adjusting her position, as though she couldn’t get comfortable.
“Is something troubling you?” Coral asked.
“She was just telling me she had a council meeting this afternoon. It didn’t go well,” Pearl said.
Crowcaller lifted an uncorked brown bottle from the table and topped up her mug with a heavily scented rum. She lifted her mug in a silent toast, then drank. When she set the mug down, she squinted hard at both Coral and Pearl.
“You would think after years of being attacked by monsters, by the Undead, the council would want to put up a wall for protection. Most of the town does. Instead, I’m cut down with excuses. It’s too much maintenance, the last one burnt down. It limits the available space for the town. Pathetic,” Crowcaller spat.
“As if town planning isn’t a thing. As if I haven’t already offered to fund the construction,” she ran her hand through her hair and sighed. “Do you know how much easier it would be to keep this place safe if we had a stone barricade. You should know. You’ve got a wall around your manor. I don’t think anything’s gotten into that place, except for what’s died on the grounds. It keeps the monsters out, people stay safe. They stay alive,” Crowcaller said heatedly, then took another mouthful of her rum.
“Surely the council can see the benefit of having the wall,” Pearl said.
Crowcaller snorted into her mug. “You would think so, wouldn’t you,” she said darkly.
“Half of them are afraid of change. Or, as they say, don’t want to be caged in like animals for slaughter. I think they just like keeping my job difficult.”
“The last wall burnt down and while they acknowledge that it had helped to keep buildings undamaged, and people had a place to use to hide themselves from the undead, there would be too much maintenance work involved.”
“They ignore the fact that this has job opportunities. It would take months, years even to complete a stone wall around the whole of Direwood. I could attract business. My name’s known all over the kingdom, for cursed sake. It’s half the reason the Night of the Undead is so popular amongst the Adventurer’s wanting a bit of action. To see me fight,” Crowcaller said, adjusting her position so that one of her feet rested against the table.
“Is there no way to convince them at all?” Coral asked.
“No,” Crowcaller said grumpily. “They like the way things are being done. Their convinced having everyone hide in the Guild for the night is enough protection with all the Adventurer’s that turn up.”
“Well, buy all the land around the town and build your own wall,” Coral said with a shrug.
Crowcaller snorted. “I’m only Direwood’s Guild Master. Not the kingdoms. I’d have people to answer to if I just started shovelling out droves of gold for land. Not an awful idea though.”
Her tirade seemed to have calmed her down a little. Crowcaller sighed, drank and sat looking at both Pearl and Coral.
“Pearl tells me you’re looking for Silas. He’s off hunting so you’re not likely to see him ‘till he’s done. There’s something troubling the caravans coming in,” Crowcaller said in a much calmer tone.
“On his own?” Coral said taken aback.
“It’s his neck, not mine, Crowcaller mumbled into her mug as she drank again.
“Does he do that often?” Coral asked.
There must have been a hint more of concern in her voice, as Crowcaller’s violet eyes looked up from the ridge of her mug. “Concerned, are we?” she asked sweetly, her voice an octave higher.
“Yes, actually,” Coral said, deciding to go with the truth. Well, partly. She wasn’t going to admit to Crowcaller that she liked looking at the handsy man. There was no denying Silas was attractive. If he went and got himself killed, she’d be hard pressed to find someone else who was suitably to her taste.
“When he returns, I need to speak to him about a personal matter.”
“Personal, is it,” Crowcaller said teasingly.
“You could call it business too. Mr. Brown informs me that you and Silas may be interested in certain objects,” Coral said. She leant back in her chair and the snapdragon leapt from her shoulders to the floor to sniff about.
Crowcaller lowered her mug this time, her face finally showing interest. “You could say that we are. What do you have?”
“You’re welcome to come see for yourself,” Coral said.
Pearl stiffened beside her. Coral only realised a beat after what she had said. They were still locked out of their house. She wasn’t even sure they would be able to gain access on their return. Of course, they could just break through one of the windows.
“When Silas returns, of course. I’d like both your opinions,” she added.
“Very well,” Crowcaller said, setting the mug down on the table between them. The snapdragon sniffed about her foot, and she watched it interestedly. “Tell me. When did you get this cute thing?”