Esmelda raised an eyebrow. “What sort of business?”

“As long as I’m making things,” I said. “I’d like to be able to do some trading in town. There are materials I haven’t been able to find on my own.”

“We’ll have to speak with my father,” she said, glancing up at the steeple of Tipple’s church, “but I don’t think he would deny you the right.”

We walked further into town. The buildings were spaced wide apart, and the road wasn’t crowded. Erihseht stretched as far as I could see, with the houses and shops broken up by fenced gardens and pens for animals. The scent of baking bread wafted through the air, and further on, manure. Men were hacking at a log behind one building, shaping it into a beam. How much faster would that work have been for me?

With a power like mine, it would be pretty easy to destabilize a rural economy. Not that I wanted to destabilize it, but I wasn’t averse to making money. Gastard walked silently beside us. What was his role in this community? He couldn’t be Esmelda’s full-time guard.

“How did you come to be here?” I asked him.

“I was going to die,” he said. “Erihseht was a stop along the way.”

“Excuse me?”

Esmelda gave me a warning look, and I let it drop. Gastard could be mysterious if he wanted to be. The mayor’s home was a two-story manor, mostly stone and mortar with a tiled roof. The interior was cozy, with a lot of furniture that was too small and door frames that weren’t quite high enough. Boffin must have heard us enter, because he appeared while I was still looking around the living room.

He looked between me and Esmelda, worry creasing his brow. “So you did come,” he said. “I wasn’t sure if we would see you again.”

“Why not?”

“From what Gastard told me, you live under siege. But forgive me, I am an ungracious host. Can I offer you some tea?”

Mayor Boffin joined me at a table in the living room while Esmelda went into the kitchen. My knees banged up against the table as I sat down, and Gastard remained standing.

“If you don’t object,” he said, “I will take my leave.”

“Of course,” Boffin said. “I can’t thank you enough for escorting my daughter, but I don’t think your protection will be necessary here.”

Gastard grunted and left the manor.

“What’s up with him?” I asked.

Boffin frowned. “What’s…up?”

“I mean, he seems like a good guy, but it’s strange that he’s here with you. There aren’t a lot of humans in Erihseht, right?”

“Ah,” Boffin said. “True, there are not many. Gastard is a virtuous man, but he found himself at odds with the lord of Henterfell, and he has since come to stay with us. We are grateful to have him.”

“Does the lord not own this land? You all have a king, don’t you?”

"Erihseht is a free settlement," Mayor Boffin said, straightening, "and the Lillits are a free people. Every family has their own land, and they use it as they see fit. We do owe a tax to Henterfell, but the king is in Eisenhall, and does not trouble himself over us.”

“Do you think the king would have a problem with me being here?” Feudal societies were a mess, and I could easily imagine that a local lord would have something to say about me settling where I was.

Boffin sucked on his lower lip, and Esmelda returned with cups of an amber-colored drink for all of us before sitting beside the mayor. I took a sip; hot tea, with an undertone of fermentation. It wasn’t great, but it was an improvement over river water.

“The king would not be pleased,” Boffin said. “It was my duty to send word of your presence to Lord Godwod in Henterfell, but now that we know who you are, I regret doing so. It may cause trouble for us all.”

Esmelda held her cup with both hands but didn’t drink. Steam drifted up around her face. “The message said we thought you were from Dargoth, not that you were a hero sent by the goddess. I do not think the men of Drom believe in our heroes.”

“Drom?” She had mentioned the name before, but I needed more context.

“Drom is the kingdom we inhabit,” Boffin said. “It is ruled by King Egald the Second, and Lord Godwod of Henterfell is a margrave, the noble appointed with authority over the border between Drom and the lands of Dargoth.”

“What do you think he’s going to do, this Godwod guy?”

Boffin sipped, and his shoulders slumped. The drink seemed to help him relax. “Send someone to investigate, I’m sure. Trade with Dargoth was outlawed many years ago by Egald the First. People do not come from beyond the mountains without reason, and they may assume you are a scout or a spy. I have sent a second letter, claiming we were mistaken, and that you turned out to be a hunter with an odd tattoo. But I don’t know what the lord will do.”

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“Thanks,” I said. “So I take it we should keep my blessings a secret? What does that mean for the kingdom, though? If I’m here, isn’t it a sign that something else is coming?”

Esmelda hadn’t dreamed of seeing me happily farming in the wilderness, she had dreamed of shadows and fire.

“I believe you are here for a reason,” Esmelda said, “but a lord will not take my intuition alone as a warning to prepare for war. Sorcery is outlawed in Drom, and that is how they would see your blessings, and perhaps my dreams as well.”

“You would be taken into custody for questioning,” Boffin said. “You still may be, and when koroshai begin to appear around you, they will take that as confirmation that you are an agent of the Dark Lord. If you are to remain by the river, we should have another story to tell whoever finds you there.”

“So I’m not from Dargoth,” I said. “And I’m not a magical hero. But I don’t speak their language, what was it again?”

“Sprache,” Esmelda said. “I can try to teach you some, and you could practice with Gastard, but they would know you are not one of them. It would be better if you pretended to be mute, or an imbecile.”

“What if we said I was from Dargoth, but I had defected. Is there really no one in Drom who comes from that country?”

“You would still be questioned,” Boffin said. “And you would have no answers to satisfy them. We don’t know enough of what Dargoth has become to tell you what to say.”

“But they wouldn’t know either, right? I could make something up. If there’s no contact between this nation and that one, how would they know anything I said wasn’t true?”

Boffin’s face wrinkled with concern. “That would be a dangerous game.”

Esmelda looked thoughtful. “Any lie we tell them could be dangerous. We will have to see how they respond. The lord may not send anyone. And if the Dark Lord does stir, they will have more to worry about than you.”

“What about the people here?” I asked. “Do the other lillits know what I am?”

“Tipple has been speaking about you,” Boffin said, looking like he wasn’t happy about it. “But most do not believe. Now that you have been seen here, the people of Erihseht will form their own opinions.”

“I asked Esmelda if it would be alright for me to trade for goods in town. Do you think that’s a bad idea?”

Boffin shook his head. “Not in itself. They may take you for a Dargothian, because of your speech, and you will not be welcomed on that account. Whether you should tell them what you truly are, I cannot say. If there are things you need, we can help you find them. What were you hoping to trade for?”

“I could use some iron,” I said.

“Oh,” Esmelda’s hands went to her mouth. “I forgot to bring you charcoal.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “The seeds were more important.”

“How much iron?” Boffin asked.

“As much as I can get.”

He tapped one finger on the table, thinking. “Until we know whether Lord Godwod will respond, I would prefer that you didn’t cause a stir in town. We don’t need lillits talking about you, saying things that could travel to the wrong ears. I can get you what you need.”

“What can I give you in return?”

He waved his hand. “I’m not concerned with the cost. What matters to me is the safety of the village. If Godwod decides you are an enemy, it won’t go well for us to have had you selling goods in town. As I said, open trade with Dargoth is illegal. And though you are an individual, not an emissary, lords have a habit of interpreting the facts in their own way. If you decide to pretend you are Dargothian, then you should not be trading here. Even if we claim otherwise, your speech will make people suspicious.”

“I understand,” I said. “I don’t want to make things harder on you, but you’ve already helped me, and I feel like I owe you something.”

“You are one of Mizu’s heroes,” Esmelda said. “Helping you is the right thing to do.”

“In that case,” I said. “I would also love some soap.”

She blinked at me. "Pardon?"

"I want soap," I said. "To wash with."

She laughed. It was a sweet sound. “Soap and charcoal. Let me fetch them for you.”

Boffin watched her go, and the expression he turned on me afterward was deathly serious.

“Until we know what comes of this,” he said. “It would be safest for my daughter if you did not spend more time with her.”

“She’s come to see me with Gastard,” I said. “That’s all.”

“I know. And I will speak to her about that. But I am asking you as a father to distance yourself. Even if you are a hero, that is all the more reason to do so. Being around you can only put her in danger.”

I couldn’t argue with that. It wasn’t as if I’d been planning to ask her out on a date. I liked being around her, but she’d been the one maintaining contact so far. The monsters alone were problematic enough, but adding potential repercussions from a noble made being friendly with me an even worse idea.

“I understand,” I said.

We sat in awkward silence until Esmelda returned. She was carrying a large, dusty sack filled with charcoal, which she deposited on the table. In her other hand was an oilskin pouch. She gave it to me, and I opened it to find an off-white goop that I assumed was supposed to be soap.

“Thank you.” I reached into my pouch and retrieved the figure I had carved the day before. “I don’t have much to give you in return, but you can at least have this.”

Her eyes widened as she took the carving. “The goddess,” she said, cradling it in her arms. “I will treasure it.”

Boffin’s mouth pinched.

“The day is waning,” he said. “You should return to your home. As for the iron, Gastard will deliver it to you soon.”

“Sure,” I said, standing. “You’ve both been a lot of help to me. If there’s anything I can do for Erihseht, you know where to find me.”

Boffin stood as well. “We do.” His manner was even less warm than it had been before. “Let me see you to the door.”

Esmelda smiled at me, and I hesitated. There wasn’t anything for me to say. Boffin was right. Getting closer to her would only put her at more risk. Giving her the statue had been an impulse, and probably come across as a rejection of the mayor’s warning, even if I hadn’t meant it that way.

“Goodbye,” I said, and the mayor walked me out.