Chapter Nineteen
It was not until the three travelers had reached the makeshift fence of a small little village just south of the city of Argonia that the caravan came to a lurching stop. Sula was quick to react. She hugged the wine vessels, catching them before they could topple and soak the cart in their contents.
The wolf could not be bothered to move. The whole ride he had sat immobilized in a lump. The idea that it was not his own feet moving him, paralyzed him completely. Even standing left him feeling shaky and unstable.
“You all alright back there?” Leuther called from the driver’s bench. “We have hit a bit of a snag. We might have to stop for the night.”
When she was certain all was settled, Sula made her way to the front of the caravan and climbed onto the bench beside Leuther. “What’s going on? Why are we stopped?”
“It appears…” Leuther said then swallowed, afraid Sula might fly into a temper if he went on. Her face already looked red with rage or perhaps residuals of his wine. Against his better judgement, he continued. “It appears one of the tires is having some problems. If I am not mistaken, one of its spokes must have split. Though I have not yet examined it.”
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Sula asked. Then she smiled and Leuther’s heart resumed its beating. “Let’s check.”
The two climbed from the bench and gave a thorough look at each of the wooden wheels. Because Sula did not know what she was looking for, Leuther gave careful instructions on how to check a wheel for damage. She listened as best she could and tried to remember the signs of a break, but when she looked at the back left wheel for a moment and then continued, Leuther had to grab her by the hood.
“This one is the culprit,” he said and drew her attention to the wheel she had just passed. She considered protesting but thought Leuther might know better than her in this circumstance. In fact, he did. Still holding her gaze, Leuther pressed lightly against one of the spokes. What had once seemed like a sturdy, whole support split ever so slightly at the scholar’s touch revealing a pointed, diagonal break. Sula was thoroughly impressed though she would never admit it.
“So what do we do now?” She asked almost absentmindedly.
“Not much to do,” Leuther admitted. “There is no way this thing will get us to the next town. We were lucky to find the break when we did. We will have to find the local carpenter and see what his rates are. Though there is no way he will be getting to it tonight. It is a simple enough fix, especially with how clean the break is, but the hour is too late. What’s likely is he will let us store the cart in his workshop and the horses in his stable. I bet we would be welcome in the stable too, but after roughing it the past couple of days, I would rather an inn, what say you?”
“Yes, an inn, please” Sula agreed. “My back won’t last another day on the ground.”
“Well, there you go. Let’s get everyone out and push this thing into town proper.”
Sula nodded and the crew set to work. Leuther made a makeshift splint out of his cloak and tied it around the split spoke. Then he had a few harsh words with his ever-reliable steeds, the gist being, “If you lot don’t pull with all your might, I’ll see to it you both find your way into the binding of a book.” With that straightened out, he positioned Sula and himself at the rear and gave the signal. The cart lurched and then thumped a steady beat down the road. The wolf, happy to be off that miserable ride, trotted along behind them and howled out his encouragements.
As they pushed the wobbling caravan down the wide and straight road, Sula noticed a shed far out in the distance with a smoke rising from its roof. What could someone possibly do in a shed that would set it on fire? Sula wondered. It was only when they passed two or three and then ten or fifteen sheds just like this one that Sula realized the wooden shanties were not sheds at all, but familial homes. The huts were made of bundled branches with a yellow thatched roof that Sula knew would not keep much if any rain out. Outside one of the larger huts at least six children dressed in soiled rags or nothing at all raced in circles around it for a long while before they each piled inside when a sweet voice called for them. The hut could have had at most two rooms.
Sula had never seen such pitiful and cramped living conditions. Sure, Sula and her papa had lived in a hut themselves on the outskirts of Argonia, but their hut had been handmade of some of the finest timbers her papa could find. It was fashioned from kandara trees and had five very spacious rooms. What she saw here was beyond her comprehension. No one in the capital lived like this. The local children told Sula that their teacher had taught them that no one in the Argonian Empire lived in squalor. Such poverty was reserved for the Southern Kingdoms where they were said to eat their own children to survive the winters. Some even liked the taste.
Stolen novel; please report.
Of course, Sula never knew firsthand if the teachers truly taught this. Her papa had taken it upon himself to see to Sula’s studies privately, which every year became a point of contention between him and the local magistrate. She was even forced to take tests every so often at the local temple to prove that her papa was not slacking in her education. Still, Papa had never mentioned such differences in living conditions during her studies.
The thought made Sula sick and she tried to think of anything else, but found herself returning time and time again to the little shacks in the distance. The closer they moved to the next town, the closer the shacks grew together and the more shacks began to sprout up, until they seemed to be stacked upon one another.
Noticing the wonder in Sula’s eyes, Leuther explained that these were tenement apartments. The first two floors were typically cobbled together out of some sort of stone and then the upper floors were fashioned together with wood. Inside, twenty to thirty families would be packed together, sharing floors and pushed into corners. The idea of which made Sula’s heart sink. Wild spirit that she was, she could not imagine being cramped up in one portion of a room and being made to share the rest with strangers.
Such buildings were, of course, not allowed in the capital. No, any poor families living inside the city of Argonia’s walls had long since died out or been thrown out and left to fend for themselves. But Leuther, noticing the grim look on the cub’s face, held back this last bit.
More than the appearance of the tenements, what disturbed Sula the most was their smell. Any sort of waste or sewage from the residents was tossed out windows or thrown out the front door so that in front of each of these buildings was a moat of sludge and bile. The putrid odor that rose from the moat was enough to churn Sula’s stomach on its own, as it was left to bake all day in the hot sun, the smell was all the worse.
She could not bear to even look at the buildings without plugging her nose. Did her fellow Argonians really live like this? She had to stifle the thought or else it would have haunted her the whole night and she had no room for new nightmares.
When at last they reached the village center, Leuther called out to the horses to stop. To their credit, Leuther only had to yell three times before, run ahead of them front, and yank on their reigns once before they slowed to a trot then fell still. They pulled up right at a great fountain that stood at the town’s center. A good thing too, because Sula could imagine their galloping straight into it without noticing.
The fountain was a pretty stone thing, carved of the same immaculate white stone as the capital buildings. At the center of its wide, ankle-high basin stood a representation of the Goddess. She stood with her arms extended forward as though awaiting a hug. The idea made Sula shudder. The Goddess’ signature basin sat at her feet and from its opening sprang the fountain water in one great jet. Smaller, decorative streams fell from the Goddess’ outstretched hands.
Compared to the fountain, the rest of the village was filthy. A layer of laborious soot had settled and caked onto the dried, clay buildings as though the very village had stained itself with sweat. Ashy buildings seemed to rise up out of the center at random with no real pattern to their placement. At one corner one might find a butchery that hung its fresh kills to drain off the side of its lopsided wood-planked roof while next to it one might see twenty or so clay pots all with their own unique flaws on display in the window of a pottery shop. In this way many small trade shops were wound about the city like weeds in a barren field.
Still, Sula noticed the smell more so than the buildings. Circling softly on the calm winds, the smell of furnaces and hearths by the hundreds mingled together. Some burnt sweetly acidic and others had a more basic, earthy tint. Sula recognized these smells as the final smolder of smiths’ recently doused fires. Drifting lazily underneath theses was the hint of smoking meats and hot broths. The beginnings of supper after a long days work, Sula thought to herself. Her mouth began to water. It was a welcome contrast to the rancid smell of the suburbs.
Though it was growing late now, there was a good crowd of people moving through the village’s winding streets, which all seemed to flow to and from the main road—more specifically the town’s center. It did not take long for Leuther to accost a kind stranger and ascertain the location of no fewer than six carpenters that operated in the village. Sula gathered from his conversations that they had made it to Tekheiria, a large village responsible for the production of most of the Argonian Empire’s crafts and metalworks. Apparently compared smiths, potters, or even sculptors, the six carpenters of the town was scant.
Leuther thanked the stranger for the information. He resolved to push the cart to the nearest carpenter with an accompanying stable to see if their rates were reasonable for someone who had recently become destitute. So, on they pushed, passing storefronts closing up for the day and children scampering back home before their mothers noticed they were gone, until they reached the carpenter in what seemed like no time at all.
“You stay out here while I head inside and work out a deal, alright?” Leuther made Sula promise. She was happy to oblige. She had not developed a knack for business yet and figured she would be in the way. Plus, being alone she might have the chance to sneak away and explore for a moment.
“Good,” Leuther said with a smile. “I am an amazing haggler. Let’s not see if we can get a better deal than the thirty oboloi they supposedly charge.” He turned toward the door and put a hand on it, almost pressing it open before he stopped. “And make sure you stay by the cart. I don’t want to have to track you down. Towns can be just as dangerous as the wilds. Be wary of anyone who tries to speak with you.”