49

They reached the northern road by midmorning, and from there, the ride was easy going. At first, Lyra tensed whenever they passed another person, but the road was busy enough that she would give herself a stroke if she kept that up. Most of the people they saw looked like they were going to a market; there were families with horse-drawn carts full of everything from produce to hand-crafted furniture and toys, individuals on foot or horseback with bags absolutely bursting with trade goods, and even a couple of professional looking caravans with boxes and crates bearing the logo of a stylized red sun, which Kel told her meant they were from Heliotheopoli.

They ended up riding with one of these caravans for most of the journey, because the caravan guards helped to soothe Lyra’s frazzled nerves. Kel and Luke got a few sideways looks, but once they spotted Lyra’s tunic, their attitude shifted. Lyra found herself growing so used to the bowed heads and murmured greetings that she became almost deaf to them. They were given a bubble of space that managed to feel polite rather that exclusionary, and not once did anyone ask why they had joined a random caravan or why they had a tied-up eighteen year old boy with them. Lyra was grateful for the lack of concern, but also a little offended on Luke’s behalf because of it.

Lyra could do whatever she wanted, and now that Erik and Milo had pointed out exactly how privileged she was in this world, she couldn’t stop noticing it. When some people in one of the caravan’s large wagons started cooking, using coals in a stone bowl to fry chunks of seasoned meat on a metal grate, the mouthwatering scent of cooking meat and unfamiliar spices caught her attention. As soon as the cooks saw her looking, one of them jumped out of the wagon and jogged over to where she and Kel were riding to offer them a bouquet of cooked meat cubes on skewers, all with with a deep bow. Lyra took them out of reflex, then looked at Kel in a panic because she didn’t have any money, but the man who gave her the skewers didn’t expect any payment. He was already jogging back to the wagon when Kel called him back and handed over a few coins from his coin pouch.

“I don’t think I’ve paid for anything since I got here,” she muttered as she split the skewers between herself, Kel, and Luke, who had dismounted to walk, since the caravan was moving at a slow enough pace that he didn’t need to ride behind Kel. The long rope that was bound to one of his leather cuffs was still attached to Kel’s saddle, which Lyra thought made them look shady as heck, but no one else seemed to care — at least, not once they saw her tunic.

Luke was the one who answered, to her surprise. He was so young, she kept forgetting he had a lot more experience in this world than she did. “You could walk up to anyone and demand they give you the clothes off their back and they would,” he said. “Well, unless it’s another priest or priestess. That’s one reason King Nicholas forbids holy garb in the north; it makes it easy to take advantage of people even if you don’t mean to.”

Kel craned around to look at Luke. "The clergy are not allowed to wear holy garb in the North?"

"Nope. It's illegal. Well, to wear it. It's not illegal to just, like, own it, but if anyone's caught wearing it, it’ll be confiscated and they'll be fined."

"Then how do the common people know to give proper respect to someone with holy blood?"

"That's kind of the point," Luke said. "You don't. No one gets treated better or worse than anyone else. Well, obviously people do, we still have class divisions between the wealthy and the poor and the king hasn't been able to fully get rid of the nobles and the court system and all of that, but he's been trying to make it all more egalitarian. We, um, don’t have many natural born priests and priestesses in the north anymore, and the ones from Earth still get special treatment since they can join his court, but it’s an improvement over how things used to be." He paused. “Or, at least, that’s what people say. Most of this happened a long time before I got here.”

Kel looked disturbed. "Tell me more about this king and what things are like in the North. They have long been isolated, but I did not know things were so different there."

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Luke complied and Lyra listened as she ate her meat skewers, which were spicy and slightly sweet. Most of what Luke said was just a rehash what Erik and Milo had told her the night before, and a lot of it was clearly propaganda, but the discussion made the time pass more quickly. As they walked alongside the caravan, surrounded by excited travelers, some of the tension that had been making her shoulders tight all morning began to ease. Maybe Erik and Milo were chasing after them, and maybe not, but the further they got from Ersgath, the better she felt.

As the sun began to drop past the horizon and the sky turned a bruised purple and blue, Lyra spotted lights ahead of them to the north and realized the Aketian camp was much larger than she had expected. It made sense now why so many people were making the day-long journey from Ersgath to it; it was more of a temporary town than a camp. They passed a few people who were making camp alongside the road, but the caravan they were with decided to push through this last leg of the trip, so Lyra, Kel, and Luke stuck with them until they reached the outskirts of the Aketian camp.

Lyra could barely take everything in. For a few minutes, she felt like a tourist again, and her worries about Erik and Milo faded into the background. Tents were everywhere, most sized for one or two people or small families, but some large enough that they looked like they could hold multiple rooms inside them. The tents were made of a lightweight fabric that rippled at every faint breeze, and they were colorful. There were areas where the colors were grouped together, but plenty of other places where there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the colors, so she wasn’t sure if the colors meant anything significant. She had to wonder where they got the fabric. If they were nomadic people, they probably didn’t have textile factories. Did they trade for it?

Most of the other travelers broke off to follow a dusty path to the left, toward an area where Lyra saw quite a few other wagons and caravans set up on the outskirts of the main camp. She assumed they would keep following the others, but Kel shook his head when she turned Aeliana to go after them.

"We aren't traders, so we needn’t follow them," he said. "Keep going straight, into the center of camp. An envoy will be sent once someone notices your tunic."

"It feels kind of rude just marching into camp like this," she muttered as they broke away from the other travelers.

She waved at the driver of the wagon they had spent most of the day riding alongside, and he nodded back in farewell. Turning her attention forward, she spotted a ring of Aketian guards set every twenty or so feet along the perimeter of the large camp. Each of them was on one of those large birds like the one Russo had been riding on, but theirs were a drab grayish brown color instead of white. The guards gave Lyra respectful nods and let them pass without so much as asking why they were there.

"You worry too much," Kel told her once they were past. "Nothing you say or do will be taken as rude, unless it's to another priest or priestess. This is not your world. What you were before no longer matters. You draw more attention by cringing from the attention and respect the common folk give you than you would by accepting it as your blood-given right."

She pressed her lips together but raised her head, not sure how to project a confidence she didn't feel. She knew Kel was right, but she wasn’t a naturally arrogant person.

From where he was still trailing after them between and slightly behind their horses, Luke, said, "Hey, don't tell them I'm a priest, all right?"

"I won't," Lyra muttered. "I don't see why you want to keep it a secret, though. I may not be super comfortable with all of this, but even I can see what a huge advantage it is. This tunic is the reason I made it as far as I have."

"Just don't. I'm not comfortable with it. I don’t want the attention."

"As you wish," Kel said. Lyra shrugged. She may not understand why Luke wanted to keep it a secret, but she could respect his wishes regardless. Besides, if everyone else knew he was a priest, they might have more of an issue with her and Kel hauling him around like unwanted luggage, so maybe keeping the status of his blood secret was a good thing after all.

A man wearing an odd, short, patchwork cape with the colors of a rather chaotic rainbow stepped out into the road in front of them and bowed as she and Kel pulled their horses to a halt.

"I am honored to be in your presence, priestess, and wish to welcome you to the Camp of the First and Last. May I enquire as to what you seek? I wish to offer my services as a guide, to ease your journey through our camp."

“Um. We’re looking for someone named Russo?”

It came out as a question, but if the man noticed her uncertainty and general lack of poise, he didn’t show it. He simply bowed more deeply and said, “I will bring you to Honored Russo, priestess. Please, follow me.”

It was that easy. Still mounted on Aeliana, she ran a soothing hand down the horse’s neck — whether the gesture was meant to soothe her or the horse, she wasn’t sure — and followed the man in the colorful cape, Kel falling into step behind her on his horse, with Luke trailing behind both of them, keeping just enough slack in his rope so Kel’s stolen horse didn’t have to drag him.