Morning sunlight graced Lily’s eyelids. Despite Vetch trying to be quiet, his moving around the room had stirred her to wakefulness. She was not surprised he had woken before her. He was a soldier through and through and she knew he had always taken great pride in that occupation. Blinking her eyes against the light cascading in through the window, she saw him seat himself at the table. He’d spread their shared supplies out on it, with more scattered around the floor at his feet. She watched as he pushed his hair out of his eyes and began sorting through their sparse possessions, separating what was useful from what they could discard. The gold coins they’d plundered from the forest floor were stacked neatly at one end of the table, easily more money than either of them had ever possessed. An exorbitant amount. Why had it been scattered in the woods like that? What would they do with it all?
On a chair beside the bed lay her dress, clean and dry and neatly folded. Past that the fire had been built up warm in the hearth to chase the early morning chill from the room. Lily would have been content to burrow herself further into the blankets and sleep the morning away, listening to the comforting sounds of the fire crackling and Vetch working at his simple task. They were sounds of home, not her home and not his, but a home, possibly one that could someday be.
“You awake?” Vetch spoke softly, as though to keep from waking her should he be mistaken.
“Mm,” she murmured. She peered at him and for a moment they just stared at one another. He looked so different bearded. It was not unattractive. And, yet, she decided she preferred his face shaved smooth. Her eyes flitted to her dress folded on the chair. He smiled and pushed his chair back to stand.
“I’ll be down in the common room with breakfast waiting,” he said. “Take as much time as you like. I was thinking that once we’ve eaten, we could go search the market for new clothing for both of us, and new supplies. Should be as good a place as any to gather the information we need at the same time.” He counted out half of the stacked coins on the table and scooped them into his belt pouch, leaving the other half as her share. “Anything you want me to ask after for breakfast?”
Suddenly being able to request any food she desired made Lily’s mouth water. “Tea,” she murmured dumbly.
“Tea?” he queried. “Just tea?” A wry smile touched the corner of his mouth.
She shook her head and laughed softly to herself. “Anything, Vetch. Whatever they have. Eggs and good cheese. And bread. And fruit, fresh or dried. And bacon.”
“That’s all?” He grinned at her openly now. “Are you sure there’s nothing more?”
Lily waved her hand at him to shoo him away. “Whatever they have,” she repeated.
“I’ll see what I can do.” He stood a beat longer before tapping his hand on the table and sweeping out the door. She heard his boots going first down the hall, then down the stairs.
She threw the blankets off and stood. The smooth wood floorboards were cool under her bare feet. Yawning and stretching her arms above her head, Lily went to stand on the rug before the hearth. The contrast of the chill morning air in the room and the heat put off by the fire raised goose-pimples on her skin. She turned and let the fire bake the backs of her legs. The room Vetch had secured for them was a modest one—small and humbly furnished, but clean and well attended to. She recalled the morning of the attack on Moonfane Forge; how butterflies had swum in her stomach as she prepared to meet Vetch for a stroll through the markets. She had been both anxious and excited, yet content. Since that last good moment until now, she had known no peace, only apprehension. But standing in this room, warmed by the fire, with the sounds of a town waking outside reaching her ears, and Vetch’s familiar scent—horses, leather, male—still lingering in the room, she felt her guard drop. She was a fist finally unclenching, a held breath finally exhaled. There would be much to do today, and dangerous plans to make for the coming days, but she would face those things as they came. And, now, she would have someone by her side when she did.
Pulling her dress on and straightening the skirt, Lily discovered that the woman who had washed it for her had also taken it upon herself to sew up the long split that Lily herself had cut in the skirt for easier riding. No matter. She would buy herself a real riding skirt in Pasanhal’s market today. She looked at the stack of coins left on the table.
“Coins on the dinner table.” She smiled. They went into her canvas rucksack and, upon consideration, so did the knife she had brought from Moonfane Forge. She slung the rucksack over her shoulder and went down to breakfast with Vetch.
There were breakfast foods in abundance spread out on the table—steaming hot oatmeal, toasted bread with fruit preserves, slabs of bacon and boiled eggs and a firm, sharp cheese of a quality that would have rivaled the cheeses made at her parents’s dairy. Vetch ate with the practical expediency of a soldier, but even once his plate was cleared, he made no effort to hurry her along. Lily took her time in savoring everything on the board. While she ate, he spoke.
“I’ve talked to a few more people here and in the stables this morning, and still nobody could point me to any black-stoned castle surrounded by wheatfields. Mostly what I’ve been told is that wheat is grown all throughout this hold. It could be any number of places in a very large region.”
Lily knit her brow as she chewed, swallowed, and took a sip from her mug of tea. “Isn’t this town the seat of Hold Pasanhal’s council ... or lord? It’s even named the same.” She wished that she had a better knowledge of her kingdom’s composition. Her schooling had long focused almost entirely on magic. One more reason the prospect of becoming a Journeyer and traveling the roads as a working mage was more than considerably daunting to her. “Wouldn’t a castle with an army be here specifically, if it was anywhere?”
Vetch leaned back in his chair and scratched at his dark auburn whiskers. “That had been my thinking, too,” he agreed. “If not here, you would suppose a place like that would at least be known to most folk. But, then, they were sellswords. ...” He sighed, adding this last as if to himself.
“Nobody saw carriages like the ones you were tracking?”
“Perhaps,” he hedged. “But there’s a problem: there’s a spring festival going on in town. The innkeeper said revelers have been arriving in wagons and carriages and on horseback for days, so nobody has taken anything amiss in that. The wheel ruts led out of the woods and straight here, but they must have blended in with everyone else arriving in town.”
It was not what Lily wanted to hear. The carriages and the black-stoned castle had been such straightforward leads to pursue. Now, they had no reference for either, and just as it seemed they had been closing in. Lily looked down at her plate, discouraged. Vetch must have noticed the change in her expression. He reached across the table and placed his hand atop hers, causing her to look up into his dark eyes. He smiled at her, and the light in his eyes made her feel like she was back at home.
“I’m just so worried about Mari ...” she whispered.
He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. His fingers were callused and rough, but his touch was gentler than any touch she’d known. When he spoke, his words were pitched low with his conviction. “We’ll find her, Lily. We’ll find her and save her. This inn is but one place here amongst many. We still have an entire town to comb over for clues. Someone here is bound to know something. We’ll start in the market.”
His words of encouragement dismissed any obstacles in their path as if they were trifles. She nodded to him and for a time they looked into each others’s eyes across the table, while he continued to stroke her hand, imbuing her with confidence as she might have imbued a Barrier. She would have been happy to stay thus, but then he slid his hand back. Only then did she realize how fervently she had been returning his gaze.
Casually, as if he hadn’t noticed, he counted out a few smaller coins that he placed on the table for their food, musing, “There’s no sense rushing into anything until we know where we are going and who we might be facing, so let us use today to learn everything we may. When we do face these people, or whatever it is we must do to reclaim Marigold, we should be rested and prepared.” He stood and held out his hand to her. She took it and let him draw her to her feet.
“You’re right. If it has to be just the two of us, we’ll want to be ready.”
“If we’ve one advantage on our side, it’s that The Lady and her soldiers likely think we’re both dead. If that is the case, then maybe they’ve let their guard down. Though, if their stronghold is somewhere near, as I believe it must be, we should be discreet in asking about it. Much as I don’t relish the thought, some people in town may be allies of theirs. We don’t want to give them any reason to be on the alert again.”
They stepped out from the inn into a bright and lovely spring morning. Pasanhal town’s lively daytime rhythm opened before them. Though its folk spoke the same language and dressed in similar clothing, the lakeside town felt like another country in comparison to the mountain town where Lily had grown up and spent her entire life. Pasanhal took full advantage of the flat and open terrain it sprawled out on. The streets and byways were wide and and straight, and instead of cobble, it was soft dirt they walked upon. The buildings and domiciles were low-roofed and wide, set well apart from one another. It seemed even in the most densely populated parts of town, each dwelling had its own yard sufficient for goats or chickens or geese. As with the streets, neither did any buildings feature stone in their composition. The larger and fancier structures were built from timber, while simpler dwellings mere made from mud brick. There were no hills or slopes, no stairs or twisty streets that cut back in on themselves, such as Moonfane Forge had. Lily thought of Marigold and how this place would agree with her aged knees and back. At the same time, she knew her steadfast teacher would never wish to leave Moonfane Forge. Certainly, never by her own choice.
Vetch found the part of town where clothing could be purchased by following a girl pushing a cart heaped high with newly harvested wool. It was strange seeing so many people going about their errands, haggling in the markets, and greeting colleagues, as if a town in their neighboring hold hadn’t been devastated by an attacking army.
When Vetch had noticed Lily staring around at all this with her face troubled, he had touched her hand and said quietly, “Probably no one from Moonfane has come here to bring word. No one here knows about the attack yet. But with any luck, Ennric and his group should be nearing the capital by now.”
Lily wondered what they would ask of the king and how they would convince him to grant it. Would it even matter if he did? It was so hard to imagine Moonfane Forge ever being restored to how it was, no matter whether their king helped them or not. Hope was a difficult thing to have when thinking back to all she had witnessed there, yet hope was possibly all she had to drive her on now. “Could we ever be like this again?” she asked, nodding her chin toward the people they passed.
There was the same troubled expression on Vetch’s face when he looked to her. But there was a resoluteness there, too. Seeing it, she knew that she would believe whatever it was he would say in response. Yet, he spoke no words. Instead, he found her hand again, took it in his, gave it a squeeze. That was all. It was a better and more honest answer than any placating words he could have offered.
Her eyes settled on a likely shop displaying colorful bolts of fabric outside and a sign advertising tailoring services. “There,” she said simply, and Vetch nodded and followed her inside.
The shopkeeper looked up from the cascading dress he was working on only long enough to nod them a terse greeting. “Ready-made or custom?” he asked, eyes intent on his work. “If you want custom, and you’re leaving town after the festival, it won’t be ready in time. Too many other orders I have already.” Nearby, a young apprentice practiced at sewing, while another was busy showing different materials to other customers.
Lily scanned the shelves piled high with various fabrics. There were displays of the tailor’s work—trousers, dresses, shirts and blouses, vests, doublets, coats—all made with considerable skill, to her eye. She was reminded of one of her favorite little shops back home, one she could rarely afford to shop in. Money would be no issue for her this day.
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“Ready-made,” she said, and went straight to a displayed kirtle of a kind she favored. “Do you have any split riding skirts?”
The tailor paused in his work and regarded her. “Not by design. But if that’s your need, choose a skirt and Davaa here can do a fair enough job altering it today.” This was evidently taken as a compliment by the apprentice girl seated next to him, for she looked up from her own work and gave a bright smile and bob of her head.
“Be happy to, ma’am,” she chirped.
Lily shot Vetch a glance to convey her approval of the shop. Then she reeled off to the tailor, “Can she do two today? And your ready-made dresses, are these all the ones you have, on this shelf here? I will also need a few shirts, and undergarments. And socks. And is there a good cobbler in town?”
Interrupted once more, the tailor glanced this time at Vetch and raised his brows.
Vetch scratched at his beard, reached for the coin pouch on his belt. Before he could pull out one of the gold coins to entice the tailor, Lily spoke.
“Yes, we can pay. We ran into some foul luck on the road, but we’ve coin. What about gloves? Can I purchase riding gloves here?”
Returning to his work, the tailor grunted, “Everything on those shelves was made by myself; the shelves below it, by my journeymen. Socks and undergarments on those hooks. There’s used clothes in the bin in the corner, sold as they are. Gloves, I don’t make, but you’ll find those, as well as a good cobbler, in the leatherworking district. Up the street and past the plaza with the banners flying over it.”
Beside Lily, Vetch felt the material of a shirt. He raised it to his chest to gauge its fit, then took it and another of the same. He went to the trousers and chose a couple pairs of those in the same cursory fashion, along with a few pairs of good socks. He brought all these to the shopkeeper, who quoted a price for the lot. Vetch placed the coins in the man’s hand, asking, “What about mail?”
The man quirked a brow to this, then shook his head. He clinked the solid coins in his palm and then they disappeared into his pocket. As with the innkeeper, the sight of the gold was enough to earn his goodwill. He turned his attention to other customers entering the shop and left Lily and Vetch to browse at their leisure. Lily was more meticulous in making her choices. She chose two skirts of heavier material to give over to the young apprentice for hasty alterations. They would be less comfortable as the weather warmed, but for the practical purpose of riding Fae, they would hold up much better than what she had been wearing.
In addition to those, she found two dresses that would fit her, a kirtle, three light shirts, and socks and undergarments. Each time she thought she should be more sparing with her choices, she remembered the substantial gold she possessed, and then she chose the best quality of everything that would suit her needs. If not for her choices being guided by the knowledge that she was dressing for a confrontation with extremely dangerous people and—if she and Vetch survived—a long ride home, she would have enjoyed this experience more. Yet, the task ahead of them remained in mind, tarnishing the novelty of getting to purchase all that she wanted. Still, as it was, it did not prevent her from picking vibrant colors and designs she liked.
After paying for the clothes, she decided she could not stand to wear the tattered, borrowed dress she had been restricted to for so many days a moment longer. When she begged the shopkeeper for a private room in which to change, Vetch declared he would go on ahead to the leatherworkers’s shops, so she agreed to meet him there in the plaza with the banners above it.
The light material of the new blouse she pulled on felt like featherdown being drawn across her skin in comparison to the old threadbare dress. To go with it, she chose the new kirtle. It was dark blue and decorated with swirling patterns of threads in lighter blues and silver. She smoothed down the skirt and sighed in pleasure at once more having a garment that fell past the tops of her boots properly. Looking at herself in the mirror, she freed and then re-tied her hair in a simple tail, and then she smiled at the effect. To be in clean, newly made clothes, to have her skin clean of all the grime of the road, to be in a proper town again ... the relief was tantamount to the relief she had felt filling her belly with good, hearty food at the inn.
She folded the rest of her new wardrobe and packed it with care into her canvas bag. The apprentice girl had by then neatly split the two skirts for riding and reinforced them with some hurried extra stitching. Lily added those to her bag and stepped outside feeling better than she had in many days. The day was warming quickly and the flow of people had increased. She wished she could spend more time simply exploring the town, but she had to meet back up with Vetch. Together, they had much to do. She set off up the street. Pasanhal town’s open layout, with its proximity to the lake on one side, and open lands on all others, meant a steady breeze passed through the streets. It was cool on Lily’s face and teased through the wavy tresses of her hair. She passed shops and stalls, and people pushing carts or driving animals along. There was commerce and trade and socializing, people both working and taking leisure. It was a town as one should be in the prime of the spring season, busy and vivacious. It was that very type of vivacity that had been snuffed out at Moonfane Forge.
At last, the busy street gave way to the wide, circular plaza the tailor had described. High above on tall poles set at intervals all around it long, colorful banners flapped in the wind. The gathering place was larger and more open than Lily had imagined it to be, and for a time she stood staring all about her in awe, trying to discern where Vetch might be. In the center of the plaza, a large wooden stage had been erected, with scaffolding from which a canvas backdrop had been draped, displaying a scene of a glowing oasis at night, with a vividly painted pool reflecting the stars from the painted night sky. No actors had yet taken to the stage, but a crowd was already gathering in anticipation of a performance. Men and women jostled for prime viewing places, and children darted through the throng, laughing and screeching. At another end of the plaza, jugglers and sleight-of-hand artists plied their trades, and near to them hawkers sold sweet and savory treats that Lily could smell at a distance. In this one plaza was a microcosm of the festivities and celebratory mood buzzing around the entire town, like the fairs that would spring up in the pastures outside Moonfane Forge whenever Marigold renewed the town’s Barrier. So many townsfolk smiling, and children laughing, and young couples flirting. The air was suffused with sounds of revelry and the aromas of sweets and spiced breads and roasting meats.
Deciding whether she should search about the plaza and its surrounding shops or continue up the street momentarily froze Lily. The temptation to join in with the town’s festivities was strong, even as her thoughts tugged at her to find Vetch so they could resume their information gathering.
Also, there were unsavory things she had to consider. Rather than enjoy a festival, she needed to use this time to prepare herself, in case she again had to confront the raven-haired Barrier-Caster who had nearly killed her. Unlike Vetch, who could equip himself with the tools of soldiering here, there was little that Lily could do to prepare for if things turned violent once they located Marigold. She would not be able to stand toe-to-toe with the evil mage who had taken her. She knew that for the truth it was. Just as she had back in Moonfane Forge, she found herself struggling to come up with any way she could be of use, no matter how much she told herself she must find a way. New clothes and boots could not provide her the additional decades of magical prowess she required.
While these worries warred in her mind, a woman in a billowy, bright red costume and feathered hat stepped out to the center of the stage, bowed, and cast her voice loud over the plaza assemblage.
“Gentlemen and ladies of Pasanhal town, children and old ones—even you. Yes, you, trying to cut that woman’s coin purse!” A laugh rose from the crowd as the caught-out thief abandoned their thieving and hastened away. The actress went on, “Gather in close, one and all, for we will now present to you a harrowing tale of swashbuckling adventure, comedy, and unbreakable romance in a distant desert kingdom. Gather in, gather in! Our tale begins at a quiet oasis far in the south. A wealthy lordling steps out of the shadows for a clandestine meeting with a traveling jewel merchant of ill-repute ...”
Having set the scene, the woman whisked herself offstage, making way for two even more gaudily dressed actors to take the stage and launch into a laughter-inducing exchange.
In no time, the pleasant diversion had Lily laughing along with the crowd. She pushed closer to the stage, spellbound by the performance. It was unusual for acting troupes to make their way as far north as Moonfane Forge. She was captivated by the costumes, the flourishes with which the actors and actresses moved and spoke their lines, the seamless changes of scenic backgrounds. Soon, she’d lost track of how long she had been watching.
A touch at her elbow made her jump. She turned and breathed a sigh of relief to find it was Vetch. He looked different. He, too, had changed into new clothes. Not the townsman’s trousers and shirt he’d purchased at the tailor’s shop, but sturdy pants suitable for riding, and a shirt of paneled leather armor overtop a padded undershirt. He had a new belt with a new dagger hanging from it. The effect was striking. It was not his garrison uniform, but was likewise the accoutrement of a fighting man. It accentuated his shoulders and contrasted their width with the trimness of his waist. He looked once more as she was most used to seeing him: a soldier.
“There you are,” she breathed, and she smiled at him. Even with his hair falling in his eyes and his beard unkept as it was, she found the man too handsome for words.
He showed his teeth in a grin. “There you are,” was his reply. He turned his eyes to the stage and the players cavorting about it. “I found the cobbler’s shop,” he said, as he watched. “Neither of us should have any trouble finding suitable boots there.”
Lily nodded. It was so good to stand beside him and watch the colorful players act out their play, even as she knew they must not while away the day with such a thing, nice as it would be. It took an effort for her to tug her thoughts away from the tale, so she could recall what they still needed to find in the markets.
“Boots, yes. And some more comfortable shoes for walking, if they have some. What about food for Fae and your horse?”
He chewed his lip in thought and shook his head. “I think the castle we’re trying to find must be in this region, if not in this town. With luck, we’ll not need to travel much farther. A day or two only, I hope, and there’s ample grazing in this hold for them. We’ll find this place. We’re close,” he reminded her. “We need find only one person in this town who can put us on the trail again. We’ll ask every last one of them if we have to.”
Again, Lily nodded. So many thoughts were racing through her head: she must get new boots and shoes, ones that fit better than the ones she had tolerated since leaving home. They might want to find supplies for treating injuries, too. She didn’t want to think of Vetch getting hurt again, but she would be foolish not to prepare for the possibility. Plus, she thought it wise to have another look at the wounds he already carried, to ensure for herself they were healing. Could they possibly use the surplus of gold they now possessed to buy back Marigold’s freedom? Who would they speak to in order to broker something such as that? Then, as quickly as she had the notion, she discarded it. The coin they carried had been paid out by The Lady to her soldiers in the first place. At least, according to the ruffians who had accosted them in the woods. If only it were that easy. She had a feeling it would be anything but.
She sighed. “There is so much we must do and possibilities we must prepare for ... and we’ve no way of knowing what we’ll be stepping into if we find these people.” Without meaning to say it aloud, she added, “I’m scared.”
Her voice fell to a whisper on the last word, in stark contrast to the jocular bombast playing out on the stage before them. There, characters danced a duel, clashing comically large scimitars together. She wanted to enjoy the fantasy for a little longer, but morning was passing into noon. Having had a taste of recovery the night before, her body and mind begged for more, but she knew the urgency of their mission. It was time they got back to their search, difficult as it was.
As if acknowledging that actuality, a bell pealed across town to mark the midday hour. She coaxed her expression to one of resolve and turned to Vetch. At her impulsive admittance of fear, she had felt him tense up where his arm brushed against hers. Now, as she took a breath to say she was ready to visit the cobbler’s shop, she saw he’d been watching her rather than the play, and something in his expression made her hesitate and forget what she’d been about to say. Seeing his concerned look, she frowned.
“What?” she asked him. “What is it?”
He only shook his head, and his auburn curls swept across his eyes. As he brushed them out of the way, his worried expression was replaced with a smile, the kind of smile he so readily could give to her that made her feel suddenly giddy.
“You know ...” he mused, and paused as if in consideration before continuing. “We never did get to have our date strolling the markets of Moonfane Forge.” She looked to him and raised her brows in confusion. He shrugged and chuckled softly, suddenly bashful, and it was the most endearing thing she could imagine. If he intended his next words to be convincing—as if she would ever need convincing when it came to him—then he needed not trouble himself. He did anyway, speaking softly, until the play and the crowd faded away and she leaned closer to hear only his voice. “We have come this far and gotten this close in our quest. It can keep for one more day. For today, let us give it no more thought. Back home, I promised you a day in the markets, just for ourselves together. Let’s take that day today, and concern ourselves with nothing but enjoying the festival and each other’s company.”
She was already completely ensnared by his words, but then he had to grin and add, “I don’t think there’s a soldier alive who’s ever had this much coin as I do to spend on his sweetheart at the festival.”
And then heat and color came to Lily’s cheeks. They flushed even hotter as, while she glanced down, overwhelmed in the most wondrous way, his eyes lingered on her, as they had in the stables back home when they’d first made their date.
“What say you?” he asked softly, dipping his shoulders and head so he could peer up into her eyes. “One day of our own, and then tomorrow we’ll continue on. We deserve this. You deserve it.”
Lily brushed a stray strand of her hair back from her face, tongue-tied. There were so many reasons for her to refuse. Not refuse him. Never. But to put this off, be sensible, get back to tracking down their town’s attackers. Those things flashed through her thoughts, but she found she was nodding to him instead. “One day,” she agreed. “To ourselves.” And the way he laughed and touched her arm made any doubts about her decision, or need for rationalizing it with herself, vanish.
“Wait here,” he said, and strode off to a nearby vendor. When he returned, he had two skewers of small fried balls of dough, sweet and sticky with honey and cinnamon. They were fresh and hot and delicious. They stood shoulder to shoulder and watched the play as they ate them.
Letting go of the haste they had applied to their task, just for one day, was like lifting a spell. Lily’s anxieties melted away, replaced with the sweetness of the festival food, the laughter they both shared at the antics of the actors, the closeness of Vetch in the press of the audience.