Alexis swayed in time with the gyrations of the wagon as they entered Prail. She could not help but be impressed. The East Road, which was packed clay that managed to stay firm even in the heaviest of rains, was replaced by a level set of large, firmly placed paving stones. The swaying stopped as soon as the wheels made their way onto it. Many towns so close to a major city often resembled that city in design, but not Prail. Whereas Cathair was a warren of haphazard buildings and streets, Prail had one wide main road bordered by neatly ordered structures. Each building was rigorously maintained, and each had a sign declaring its purpose. The town even had a manicured garden that surrounded a massive Welcome to Prail sign.
The oxen’s hoofs clopped loudly on the stone as they rode further into the town. She simply could not help but notice how beautiful everything was. It was too small a town to possess much wealth, she thought, but its citizens obviously owned their fair share of pride. Only fifteen buildings were bordering the street; she could not help counting, they were so striking. Most of them were two stories and likely doubled as houses in addition to the civic function they served. She noted the church, blacksmith, inn, stables, town hall, and her heart warmed a little, the cobbler. There were other businesses, but she did not take notice of them. Before she left Cathair, she did a little research on Prail. It was primarily known for its produce. Sitting on the river as it did, it produced some of the best fruits and vegetables in the area, and it was not rare to see their wares grace the most affluent tables in Cathair. She had Ulf stop the wagon in front of the stable.
“Now remember, we are supposed to be a farming family in search of a new homestead. You get us straight with the stable master, and I will go talk to the magistrate about the proper permits.”
Ulf gave his best, “whatever,” shrug, and she handed over a few coins.
She climbed down and stretched the road weariness from her legs and back. Slapping some dust from her dress, she walked toward the town hall. She stopped and looked, with some envy, at the inn. It was just as well maintained as the other buildings, but it eschewed the bright white façade the other buildings had in favor of a rainbow of color. The building was sky blue with almost garish yellow shudders. The door was an eye-popping red. The windows were glass and looked like they could actually be opened to let the summer breeze in. She resisted the urge to go in.
Like many small towns, the town hall housed the magistrate’s office, town jail, and courthouse. A pleasant-looking man was sitting behind the front desk as she walked in, and he greeted her with a friendly smile and a hearty, “Good day to ya ma’am.”
“Good afternoon.” She said. “I would like to apply for a homestead permit if there are any to be had.”
The man shook his head and clicked his tongue. “Oh dear, afraid ya picked a bad time for that.”
“Are there no permits to be had? My family and I have traveled a long way to make a fresh start.”
“Aint that we ain't got no permits.” He said.
“Then why is it a bad time?” She asked.
“Ta start with, we don’t do no homesteads till after the freeze. Ya could request to talk to the magistrate bout an exception, but he done run off.”
“Then who is in charge here?” She asked.
“Aint no end of folks asking me that.” He said bitterly. “I think I am, but ain't too sure bout that.”
“So, the town just manages itself?”
“Not much ta manage this time of year. Harvest is all done, and folks are pretty peaceful like. Ya get some drunks in the inn, but Sean does a good job of getting the wives involved when that happens.”
“Very well, who do we see about housing for the winter?”
He looked confused. “Housing? I suppose ya could stay at the inn. If ya need coin and have something to put up, I can make ya a loan for the winter.”
“No, thank you,” she said. “We have enough to get by.”
She left the town hall, confused. She had never heard of a magistrate just running off. Even more bewildering, no one had stepped up to fill the void. With a shake of her head, she went to find Ulf. He was just making his way out of the stable with Martin in tow, literally. He looked disheveled and sullen. Ulf released him as they drew near.
“Damn boy don’t know his ass from a bridle,” he spat. “What kind of stable boy can’t unhitch a couple of mangy old oxen?”
Martin threw Ulf a hateful look. “I told you,” he shouted, “My name is Martin!”
He pulled a hay hook that he had somehow procured and swung it at Ulf. Ulf took a quick step back and squared up to him.
“You’d better mean it, boy,” he bellowed.
Martin did not say anything. He rushed at Ulf with the hook swinging violently. She took a step toward the two, but Ulf caught her eye.
“Stay out!” He shouted.
The distraction cost him. Martin buried the hook into Ulf’s stomach. The severe curve of the hook made the wound a shallow one, but it looked painful. Ulf screamed. He slapped Martin’s arm away, and the hook stayed lodged in his midsection. Martin did a little pirouette and rushed Ulf the moment he was facing him again. Ulf was not distracted this time. He slammed a fist into Martin’s head, and the boy fell limply to the ground. Ulf did not move away.
“Get up, boy! You’ve been waitin’ for this, so get to it!”
A small crowd was beginning to form, and Alexis had no idea what to do. If she interfered, one or the other of them was likely to attack her. If she did nothing, one of them was probably going to die. Ultimately, she decided to keep the crowd at bay and let the two of them settle matters.
Martin got slowly to his feet. He seemed hesitant, but Ulf was not going to let it end this time. He stepped up and shoved him back down. He yanked the hook from his body in a fount of blood.
“You’d best get up and fight,” he said, tossing the weapon at Martin.
There was no hesitation this time. Martin grabbed the hook and lunged at Ulf’s legs. Ulf’s backward step was too slow, and the hook raked a gash in his left calf. Another scream, another fist to the head. Martin had not even gotten all the way to his feet before he was on the ground again. Ulf kicked him hard in the ribs.
“I’m not gonna tell you again to get up, boy!”
Martin coughed and grabbed his side. He scrambled around for the hook and seemed not to see it. Ulf started to back away, and Martin grabbed one of his feet. It unbalanced Ulf, and he fell hard. Martin leaped onto him and began savagely beating him. Ulf did not just lay there and take it, but his blows came slowly and seemed to lack his usual brutal force. When Martin had punched himself out, Ulf lay still. He got to his feet and looked around for the hook. He found it and picked it up, then squatted over Ulf and put it to his neck. Ulf lifted his head and turned it to expose more flesh.
“I told you one day I’d get what was coming to me. Do it.” He said.
Martin hesitated. He was breathing hard and swaying slightly.
“Where’d you think this was going, boy,” Ulf grunted.
Martin pressed the hook harder against his neck. He was sobbing, but he still did not end it. Ulf let out a sigh.
“Am I the one you really wanna kill?” He asked.
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“You let him die,” Martin said.
“I already told ya, he did it to himself. If killin’ me makes ya feel better about that, then get on with it. But it ain't gonna change the past.”
Alexis could not believe her ears. Ulf had an enraged boy holding a hook to his neck, and he still would not relent. The man was stubborn and stupid. How could he not see that making Martin kill him would end both their lives? Even if he avoided execution, she could not believe he could live with that. Ulf slowly raised a hand and grabbed Martin’s wrist. He did not force the hook away, just held on.
“Listen, Martin,” he said, “you gotta understand the way the world works. I told ya before, and I’m gonna tell you now, life ain't fair, and when men die, the living suffer. If you kill me, you’ll suffer too ‘cause I ain't the one you wanna kill.”
Martin still did not move. He stayed silent and let Ulf cradle his wrist.
“You got a choice,” Ulf continued. “Right now, you get to decide what kind of man you’re gonna be. You gonna be a man that lets his rage control him, or you gonna be a man that thinks?”
Martin let the hook fall. He looked drained. He rolled off Ulf and lay on his back. Ulf got to his feet. He did not look like a man that had narrowly avoided death. Blood was flowing from his stomach and leg, but he was moving smoothly. He held a hand out.
“Come on, Martin, let’s get something to eat.”
Alexis watched Martin let Ulf help him up, stupefied. If she lived to be a hundred, she would never understand men. She shouted for Ulf to wait, and he let Martin stumble into the inn.
“Are you alright?” She asked.
“Fine.” He said.
She reached a hand out to him, and he stepped back.
“No,” he said.
“Why not?” She snarled.
“That boy deserves to see me like this. It took a long time for him to get the courage to face me, and I ain't gonna let you rob him of this.” He looked at his blood-soaked shirt. “I’ll live.”
“But what happened?” She asked. “I’ve seen you take down much larger men than that boy.” She was angry now. “Were you trying to get yourself killed? I thought you were over all that!”
Ulf shrugged. “I could’ve killed the boy, sure. But that wasn’t the point. He had to fight me, and I had to fight back enough for him to believe it. That was the only way to get him to face his anger about his dad dying.”
“So, you would have let him kill you just to make a point?” She asked hotly.
“I killed my own father to make a point, what do you think?” He said. He didn’t give her a chance to answer and walked into the inn.
Alexis kicked the air. She was furious with the man. The crowd started to disperse, and not a few of them followed Ulf into the inn. The rest of them went back to their homes, giving her worried looks. She felt foolish standing in the road, throwing a tantrum, so she went into the inn as well.
The interior of the inn was blessedly warm and bright. Unlike the Bucket, the smoke of the fire flowed freely out the chimney. A light haze of smoke hung in the air due to the number of smokers in the room. Ulf and Martin were sitting alone at a table in the rear, murmuring. A server was taking their order, visibly uncomfortable with their appearance. She had no desire to talk to either of them, so she strode to the bar. The bartender was busy filling glasses but handed the job off to come over and talk to her.
“Like what you see?” He asked
“Is it that obvious?” She said, still looking around.
“Oh, I’m always on the lookout for dissidents in the ranks,” he chuckled.
He did not speak like most people out in the country, and it was refreshing. Especially after spending so much time around Ulf, she thought.
“What can I get you?” He asked.
She stopped looking around. “Well, my family and I were hoping to homestead, but it looks like we will have to put up for the winter.”
“Your family, eh?” He had a knowing smile on his face. “If you need a place to put up, you’ve come to the right place. How many rooms?”
“One,” she said.
He looked at her. “If it’s money you’re worried about, long term rooms are a little cheaper, and we can always work something out if you need help.”
“You’re the second person to offer me help with money. Is everyone in this town so generous?”
“It’s simple business, ma’am,” Sean said.
“Well, business or not, we do not take charity, and I don’t believe in borrowing either. One room will be fine.”
Sean gave the price and looked wanly at her when she did not even try to barter. She counted out the coins and passed them over.
“I’ll just need a name, then we’re all set,” Sean said, depositing the money into a large box.
“Alexis,” she said.
There was a loud cough from the end of the bar, and she turned. A man sat hunched over a plate. He was wrapped tightly in robes and shivered despite the heat. She could not see his face clearly, but that profile could belong to only one man. She moaned. She was not prepared for this right now.
“Gods, I thought I recognized that voice.” The man said. He turned to face her. “Why are you here?”
“Hello, Reka,” she said coldly.
Sean looked between the two of them. “You two know each other?”
“I thought I knew her once,” Reka said.
“And I thought I knew you,” she more loudly than she intended.
She saw Ulf stand out of the corner of her eye. Before she could tell him otherwise, he strode to the bar. He stood by her side, facing Reka. She did not want him here, but dammit, his presence felt good.
“Everything ok,” he asked.
“Everything is fine,” she said. “Ulf, this is Reka. Reka, Ulf.”
Reka extended a hand toward Ulf. “A pleasure, I’m sure,” he said.
“Not today,” Ulf said, ignoring the proffered hand. “Me and the boy are gonna go get cleaned up. Maybe see if there’s a healer in this town. Unless you need me to stay.” He directed a sharp look at Reka.
“No, Ulf, you and Martin go get taken care of. I will be fine.”
He turned to the bartender. “Keep our food warm.” He said then walked out, Martin following close behind.
“Homesteaders?” Reka asked.
Sean was watching intently. “Not here,” she said in a whisper.
“Sean, I think I will take my meal to my room,” Reka said.
When he got up, she noticed he was moving stiffly. There was also something off about his color. She waited until they were on the stairs before mentioning it.
“What is wrong with you?”
Reka slumped a little at the top of the stairs. “It is a long story. I thought I was over the worst of it, but it looks like I am going through a bit of a relapse.”
“It looks like you have one foot in the grave,” she said.
He barked a short laugh. “That would please you, would it not?”
She did not answer. There had been many times she thought seeing him dead would please her. She just was not sure if she felt that way anymore.
“Your silent concern overwhelms me,” he said.
The words were entirely condescending. They matched the Reka she remembered, but there was something off in the tone. He came to his room and pulled out his key. She was surprised to see actual locks on the doors. She had not yet received her own key. Maybe there was more money in this town than she thought. They went into the room together, and Reka sat down at once.
“Well,” he said, “why are you here?”
“You are smart enough to know the answer to that,” she replied. “Gregory sent me to help you.”
He laughed again. “I do not need your kind of help.”
She noticed the tone again. There was no conviction to his insult. That was definitely not like the Reka she remembered. The Reka she remembered relished his own perceived moral superiority. It unnerved her to see that once-powerful man looking and sounding so pitiful.
“Tell me what happened.” She said.
“To put it succinctly, I was a fool.” He answered. “I got myself into a bad situation and have yet to recover.” His voice gained a little strength. “But recover, I shall. Have no fear of that. Now tell me what brings you down from the frigid north.”
“I got myself into a bad situation and have yet to recover,” she said.
They looked at each other silently, then at the same time, said, “I’m sorry.” They each tried again but again talked over each other. Reka slapped his hands in disgust.
“I will not allow you to usurp my apology!” He shouted.
Even in humility, he was an arrogant ass, she thought. “By all means,” she said, “continue. You are doing wonderfully so far.”
He visibly calmed himself. “Please forgive me. These last days have been trying, and I am afraid I am allowing my emotions to rule me too often of late. I may have said some things to you that I regret now. For that, I am sorry.”
She laughed derisively. “You may have said some things to me? You called me an abomination. Gods, you called me a murderer!”
“And I maintain that I was right!” He shouted, jumping to his feet. “What you did was horrific. And for what? Power!”
“If this is what passes for an apology on that pedestal of yours, you can keep it!” She shouted.
She turned to leave, and he called out to her. “Alexis, wait.”
She stopped at the door and turned to face him.
“I think what you did WAS horrific, but I judged you too harshly. You were trying to get by in a world you had just discovered. I should have been more understanding. At a time when you needed guidance more than anything in the world, I drove you away with insults and judgment. Believe me, I know now how easily power can lead one to contemplate terrible actions.”
“It was never about power,” she said. “All I wanted was acceptance, and they gave it to me. You took away my innocence, and they replaced it with indifference.” He seemed to have nothing to say, so she continued. “But, I’m sorry too.”
“For what,” he asked.
“For hating you all these years. Regardless of how you accomplished it, you opened my eyes to what I was doing. It gave me a way out of that life. I owe you for that, so I am sorry.”
“What’s done is done,” he said. “You say you are here to help me?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Good, I want you to go to the house of Aedon Hall. He has a daughter, Mika. I want you to watch over her and make sure that Aedon is doing what I told him.”
“You want me to babysit?” She asked incredulously.
“Yes. Brother Mark tells me it might be a month before I am ready to leave his care. That means I must stay here. Aedon is a difficult man, and he may decide my absence means he is free of me. You are to dissuade him of that notion.”
“But I’ve already paid for a room here.” She said.
“Then that man you brought can use it, but I need you at Aedon’s.”
She could tell he was displeased with her push back. “Fine, but Ulf goes with me. And there is a boy, Martin. He goes as well. How do you know Aedon will take us in?”
This time he laughed, and it was not kind. “I think we have finally come to an understanding on that score. Just tell him that I am not giving him a choice.”