Of all the people in Whitegrave that hated strangers, it always struck Tadhg as particularly funny that the Innkeeper hated them most. Eoin was barely hospitable to his regulars. So for anyone he didn’t know, it was by The Elders luck if he spoke to them at all. Granted, the Inn was usually a temporary home to long-haul fishermen from the mainland taking a break or waiting out a storm. There was very little need for an Inn, truth be told, but the tavern was well-liked, and every once in a while, the five rooms were all occupied.

When Oona told Tadhg about the Archivist she had sent to the Inn, he half expected to find the poor man curled up outside or in the stables, where at least the company was kinder. But, upon a quick inspection, he didn’t find anyone lurking about, so he shrugged and headed inside.

Eoin was in the kitchen in the back, and his lively serving girl, Catriona, talked up a storm to some of the fishermen as they ate their breakfast. She was young, innocent, and too eager for the attentions of men, but she did liven the place up. When she spotted him, she rushed over, not even bothering to finish her story. Her customers reached out to grab her, but she dodged their attempts.

Tadhg knew that she’d had a crush on him since they were kids, so he tried to avoid being near her when possible. He just didn’t share her interest, though, by all rights, she was the prettiest girl in town.

“Tadhg!” she called to him from behind a huge smile.

“Cat.”

She blushed. It was the perfect feminine blush that pinks up just the cheeks and makes them burst to life. He offered a slight wave in greeting as she reached him, and she took his hand and ran two of her fingers along his thumb. When she started to curl them around to the inside of his palm, but he pulled away and scratched his head. She sighed but kept her smile.

“I’ve been sent to see to a visitor.”

Catriona’s eyes widened. “He’s a strange one, I tell you. A real live Archivist, can you imagine? He’s going to be in for a surprise.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Tadhg was starting to fidget. “Do you know where I can find ‘im?”

“He’s not come down yet.” Her customers were getting restless, calling out for her to come back. “Hold on!” she snapped over her shoulder. “I can go see if he’s up, if you like.”

“No, no need to wake ‘im. I’ll just wait at the bar.”

Catriona returned to the table of rowdy guests. After they had teased her and laughed at her jokes and stories for a bit longer, they paid and headed out.

Great, thought Tadhg, wondering why his charge wasn’t up yet. Sunrise was already an hour gone.

But before Catriona could return to him, some of the other villagers made their way into the tavern and headed to a table. Eoin came out from the kitchen and spotted Tadhg, heading towards him while Catriona settled the new guests.

“What’re you doin’ here?” His speech was coarse, but not unkind.

“I’m supposed to take that Archivist to the Tower.”

“Are ye?” He wiped down the counter and grabbed a clean glass from underneath. He filled it to the brim with warm beer and plopped it down in front of Tadhg. “You’re gonna need this. That one’s gonna be a headache.”

“Oh?” Tadhg gratefully took the beer and drank a large swig.

“So proper, that one. Barely ate me stew, said the beer was too warm, wanted a bath in his room, like he’s some sort of prince.”

Tadhg could only smile. Most of the villagers had grown accustomed to Eoin’s fish stew, but it was something even the long haulers couldn’t stand. “Is that right?” he asked to placate the old man.

Some more townspeople meandered in; Eoin and Catriona both attended to them and left Tadhg alone at the bar to drink his beer. His mind concocted a vision of the Archivist as a crotchety old man, bent with age and fat with privilege and rich foods.

Probably balding, he mused.

When he heard soft footsteps coming down the stairs, he turned in anticipation.

What emerged was not at all what he had imagined.

A young man, no more than thirteen, surely, in a heavy cloak and draped with a leather satchel made his way nervously into the tavern. Tadhg smiled at him and slapped the counter next to him.

The Archivist jumped a little.

“Come sit here with me. Let’s get to know ya.”

The young man cautiously came over, and Eoin glared at him. Without even asking, he poured him a glass of beer and went into the kitchen.

The Archivist pulled himself up onto the stool and looked back and forth between Tadhg and the kitchen door. “Hello,” he said quietly.

Tadhg clapped him on the back. “Well, hello to you, too. I’m Tadhg.”

The other villagers were quieting at their tables, looking over at the newcomer with interest. He stared back at them apprehensively.

“It may be warm, but it is beer,” Tadhg motioned to the glass in front of the young man, trying to take his mind off of all the eyes staring at him.

“Yes.”

“You don’t talk much. I guess I expected an Archivist would be all talk and no … ” Tadhg paused.

The young man sat up straighter, a look of defiance on his face. “No what?”

Tadhg just laughed. “I suppose I don’t know. I’ve never met an Archivist before. Surely you can’t be a fully schooled Archivist. You can’t be but thirteen.”

The young man turned beet red and stared into his beer, which was still full to the brim. “I’m fifteen, I’ll have you know, and I am most certainly a fully educated Archivist.”

“My apologies.” Tadhg clapped him on his back again. “You’re only a couple years younger than me. We should get along brilliantly.”

The young man’s eyes went wide as he searched Tadhg up and down. “You’re only seventeen?”

Tadhg nodded.

“How, in the name of the Elders, did you get so big?”

“I suppose I just grew.” He smiled. This shy little Archivist had a lot to learn, no matter how educated he was. “Do you have a name, or am I to call you Master Archivist?”

“I’m not a Master,” he replied softly, “just an Archivist. And my name is Percival.”

“Archivist Percival, now that’s a mouthful. We oughtta get you situated in these parts and give you a nickname.”

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“Oh, please, no. I was always teased at the Grand…” he paused once he heard what he had just said.

Tadhg nodded, then continued quietly. “I know a thing or two about being teased and about bullies.”

Percival looked up at him nervously. “Because you are one?”

Tadhg laughed again. “No, not at all. Because of this.” He shoved his stool back enough for Percival to see he had a peg leg.

“Your leg!” Percival screeched. “My god, what happened?”

Tadhg looked around the room sheepishly. “Calm down. I lost it when I was just a tike. I don’t even remember.”

Percival got ahold of himself. “It’s absolutely atrocious that anyone, even children, would tease someone in such a condition. I am appalled. On your behalf, of course.”

Tadhg nodded. “Of course.” He swallowed the rest of his beer in one big gulp and nudged Percival’s shoulder. “You should drink that all up and have some breakfast. Gather the rest of your things and meet me outside in half an hour. We need to get started.”

Percival looked shocked. “Started? How do you mean?”

“Didn’t Oona tell you I was going to be your ride to the Tower?”

“Oh, are you the carriage driver?” Percival shifted his satchel over his shoulder.

Tadhg shook his head. “No, I guess she didn’t tell you.” He laughed again and left Percival sitting on his stool, looking stunned.

****

Half an hour later, Tadhg had gathered all of the provisions they would need with the money that Oona had given him on behalf of the Mayor. Percival’s Bill of Exchange wouldn’t be honored in the small towns, so the Mayor had given the first Archivist tax to Oona, who had given it to Tadhg. She had told him what she needed him to do and explained that he could keep the extra money left over from the provisions, but he felt bad for this Archivist, who was clearly out of his element.

When Percival finally emerged from the Inn, he seemed ill-prepared. He still had only the one satchel, and he wore his cloak pulled tightly around himself, even though it was a calm morning and a bit warm for the season.

Tadhg hurried over to him. “Is that all ya have?”

Percival nodded.

“That’s all they sent ya with? One satchel of clothes and provisions?”

Percival looked at his satchel and clutched it closer to him. “I have two shirts, a change of underthings,” he blushed a bit at this, “and the rest is documents intended for the archive. Everything else I need should be found in the Athenaeum or provided by the townspeople.”

“Oh, Percy,” Tadhg groaned.

“Oh, not that! Please, not Percy. I’ve always hated that contraction.”

“All right,” Tadhg sighed. “How about Val, then?”

Percival shrugged. “I suppose we could give it a try.”

“Wonderful!” Tadhg threw his arm around Percival’s shoulders. “Come with me, Val. We’re going to need a few more things.

****

After another hour of preparation and purchasing a bedroll, blanket, a small tent, a change of clothes more suited to the Isle’s climate, and an oiled cloak, Tadhg led Percival and his new belongings to the cart where his mule was hitched and waiting.

Tadhg had already loaded the deliveries he was to take to Islingcester – flour, barley, sugar, dried fruits and jams, salted pork and beef, spices, and any additional supplies that the people of Islingcester had ordered from Isaddorria.

Percival’s face dropped. “This is not a carriage.”

“It’s not, at that. It is how I am heading home and how you are getting to The Tower.”

“There is hardly any space for us.”

“In fact,” Tadhg corrected, “there isn’t any. If it gets really difficult, you can ride for a bit, but I’d rather keep my lovely old nag strong as she can be for as long as she can be.”

“We’re… walking?” Percival’s face was ashen.

“Yes, Val. We’re walking.”

“The Mayor’s daughter said that it was seventy miles!”

“Seventy two, actually. But those last two feel like hardly anything at all. Here…” Tadhg took Percival’s satchel and placed it gently in the wagon under the tents and bedrolls. “Now you don’t have that to worry about.”

“That makes a world of difference,” Percival grumbled sarcastically.

****

They travelled slowly. Although Tadhg was very familiar with the road and used to the trip, Percival was entirely unprepared for the journey. His boots were more for show than actual use and soon enough he’d gotten blisters. Tadhg let him ride on some of the more downhill portions of the trip and cared for his feet when they stopped at night.

Percival seemed even smaller when the rain started and his matte of brown hair slicked down to his head. Tadhg stopped them early the third day and set the tents up in such a way that the rain was thoroughly blocked, but they ended up squeezed together in his tent.

“Take off your wet clothes. We can dry them out and get warm,” Tadhg instructed. He took off his own shirt and pants.

Percival hesitated, then stripped down and wrapped his blanket tightly around himself. He couldn’t help but notice that Tadhg was thick with muscle, but also lean. He had taken out the braid he wore and now he shook out the water like a dog, spraying Percival with tiny dewdrops. “Hey!” he protested, but he found he was laughing.

Tadhg leaned back, smiling, and held himself up on his elbows. “So, how did someone as young as you even become an Archivist?”

Percival sniffed as he shivered a little. “Well, my parents were both scholars…”

“A woman scholar?” Tadhg interrupted with surprise.

“Of course,” Percival responded. “Anyone can be a scholar with study. In fact, my mother was a more learned scholar than my father.” He smiled at Tadhg’s reaction. “She was magnificent. She knew all the histories, understood the mechanics of complex machinery, she was always tinkering.”

Tadhg looked at his feet. “Was?”

“Yeah.” Percival thought fondly of his memories. “We were going to go to Stonerivell and try to learn what they have been working out.”

“The atheists in the south?”

“Yes. I mean, they are atheist, that’s true, but they are also scholars. They have practices that work with different substances – it’s called chemistry – and they can do all kinds of things. They study all the sciences, try to make life better.”

“And you were going to go with them?” Tadhg seemed shocked.

“Yes. I mean, I did. We left from South Yirread, one of the districts of Molarian, where I was born, and headed to The Grand Archive. My father took ill on the trip, and the carriages wouldn’t take us on. We stayed in a small town off the road until my father died a few months later. Then my mother and I took what we had left and made our way to The Grand Archive, just like we’d always planned. She was studying to become an Archivist and helping to make medicine and cook and clean. The Archivists let us stay as long as she was helping out, we even had a room of our own. Then one day, she went into town by herself to visit the apothecary, and she never came back.” Percival pushed at the soft dirt with his toes.

“Did you ever find out what happened to her?” Tadhg asked gently.

“No. But the Archivists took me on and raised me from that point on. I had nothing to do but study. I learned everything I could. All about history and politics, art and music, folklore and farming.” Percival looked eagerly at Tadhg. “Anything anyone would teach me. I even tried my hand at swordplay.” He lowered his blanket to show Tadhg the scar across his shoulder. “That didn’t go too well.”

“I should say not.”

“At any rate, I ended up one of the youngest Archivists to pass all the exams. And when the postings came, everyone was assigned but me. Because I was the youngest, they said I should wait another year for new postings to come up. But then, a request came for an Archivist, and I was the only one ready to go.”

“You make it sound like you’re being punished.” Tadhg cut a bit of dried peach with his knife and flicked it into his mouth.

“I don’t think they would have really wanted me here, to be honest. I am trained, but I don’t know much about how the world works.” He looked at Tadhg and hung his head. “As I’m sure you’ve already determined.”

“You may be the dumbest genius I’ve ever met.” Tadhg laughed and handed Percival a dried peach.

Percival worked it around in his hand, contemplating peaches. “I’m not sure I’ve ever had a dried peach.”

Tadhg studied him. “But you have had a fresh one?”

Percival nodded. “Of course. The Hold had orchards of all kinds. Apples, peaches, pears, lemons, oranges, and gardens, too, full of berries and vegetables. The food at The Hold was beyond compare.”

Tadhg nodded. “I think I would like that. I’ve never had a fresh orange. I’ve only had the candied ones that come special at Winterfest.”

“You’d love them. So tart and juicy. I learned a little about growing things, but I don’t think oranges would grow here without a solarium or hot house.”

Tadhg laughed. “I don’t even know what those are. But, I’ll tell you what, if you can describe it to me, I can make it. You’ll never find a better carpenter on one leg in all of the Isle.”

“It’s a deal.” Percival reached out and shook Tadhg’s hand.

“This is what I expected, Val.” Tadhg rolled up his extra supplies and used it as a pillow to lean back on.

“How do you mean?”

“I thought an Archivist would talk like this.”

Percival smiled. “You have made me comfortable. I don’t know how I’ll be when others come seeking knowledge at the Tower.”

“You’ll be fine,” Tadhg closed his eyes, opening the one closer to Percival just a smidgen. “I’m certain of it.”

****

The next three days were easier traveling as the road was more level and the rain had stopped. Tadhg had several stops he needed to make to drop off the goods ordered throughout the town of Islingcester, ending up at a general store where he unloaded the remaining dry goods and jarred fruits and various other commodities.

After he finished those chores, Tadhg invited Percival onto the cart and gave him a ride to the Athenaeum. As they approached, Percival could see why no one had wanted this post in decades. A good portion of the top third of the tower had collapsed in on itself, the roof was rotted, the stone pathway had washed away or been stolen, and it could hardly be called a keep of any kind.

Percival couldn’t get the door open, so Tadhg muscled it in with his shoulder, only to send a murder of crows flapping in all directions. There were also bats in some of the damper rooms and owls roosting in the eaves that were still sheltered from the weather.

“Perhaps tonight you should stay with me,” Tadhg suggested.

Percival could only nod in response.