The body of the deer poked Atissa in the back. Again. Transporting an animal by binding its legs to a pole was something she and uncle Tatros had done many times before. It allowed two people to comfortably share the burden.

The magi’s staff was a bit short, especially considering the difference in height between her and Markdougles, but she had been too shocked to say anything when the stranger had suggested they use it. Was he a magi? He definitely had an unusual name. Where might he be from?

He had not answered her question when she had asked him. Well, he had answered but she hadn’t understood anything he had said. And he had asked a string of questions she hadn’t understood either. A lot of things about him were strange and confusing. He’s probably a magi.

They descended a hill, and the deer poked her in the back again.

“I should probably go first when we walk downwards,” Markdougles said.

“Hm?” she asked, having been deep in thought.

“Because I am taller.”

“…sure,” she said.

Awkward shuffling followed until they had figured out who should turn in which direction.

“Which way?” he asked after they had successfully switched places.

Atissa pointed in the direction of the path. “That way.”

It would have been safer to stay hidden. But her curiosity had gotten the better of her and not for the first time. Will uncle be angry, she thought? Her instinct hadn’t alarmed her to any danger. That was usually enough for her uncle.

“…Yes?”

“We must go straight towards that big fallen tree,” she said, quickly realizing that as he was walking in front of her, he couldn’t see her pointing. “Then over the hill behind it.”

Markdougles nodded and they started moving.

Just like uncle, she thought. Tatros would let her run into a tree and then ask her what she had learned.

After a couple of steps, the deer hit Markdougles in the back, and he tensed up. His hand touched the spot on his back. Atissa had to keep herself from giggling.

When she had gutted the deer, he had watched with interest, while still keeping a careful distance. Maybe his faith did not allow him to touch dead things. She had heard that a magi’s power came from the gods. And some gods had the strangest rules. Could she ask him about that?

“Your town… how far is it?” Markdougles asked.

“Logger’s Home is another two hours. We will go passed Ipras’ place on the way. The deer is for them. It’s really only a village. Logger’s Home I mean.”

They switched positions again to climb another hill.

Again, Atissa noticed the care Markdougles took, to keep his clothes from touching the dead beast. She had never seen anything like it. The material covering his upper body was such a stark white as if he was wearing a cloud. At least where it wasn’t stained. And the mesh was so finely woven that she couldn’t see the stitches.

She tried to imagine what the village women would say if they saw it. They would probably be even more eager to touch the fabric than Atissa.

Still, she could tell that Markdougles’ attire was not suited for traveling through the valley. It was dirty and ripped in several places. While his shoes seemed to be made from good leather, he was visibly uncomfortable walking in them.

On top of the hill, they switched places again before descending the other side. The deer hit his back again, but this time he showed no reaction.

“So… where were you going?” Atissa asked. “Before you got lost, I mean.”

Mark hesitated a moment before answering. “A hotel.”

“… what’s a hotel?” Atissa asked, carefully.

Markdougles’s head turned half around to her, frowning. “It’s a place where people pay money to spend the night. Maybe… like an inn?”

“I know inns!” Atissa said. “They have them in Riadnos. The men stay there after the Drive. But I have never been.”

“Why?”

The question sounded genuine.

“Women and children never go,” Atissa said. “Driving the tree trunks down the mountain rivers takes several weeks and it is dangerous. Men get hurt. Afterward, they always spend some time resting in Riadnos before starting the journey home.”

The wives always complained that the men were probably spending half the profit they made on wine and women. Men who stayed behind always avoided these conversations. They only argued that the Drive was hard and dangerous and to leave them alone.

“I have never heard of Riadnos,” Markdougles said. “How far is that from Calgary.”

“I don’t know Calgary,” Atissa said, repeating the strange word. “Riadnos is a big Helcenaean colony on a lake close to the ocean. They say it’s the north-western end of the Golden Road.” Atissa thought about what else she knew.

Markdougles was quiet for some time. “Maybe I just hit my head,” he murmured after a while.

For a moment this confusing man felt very lost to Atissa.

“My uncle traveled a lot when he was young,” she said quickly. “He says, he even saw the walls of Saggab once. I am sure he knows this Calgary.”

This was great. If Markdougles stayed with them, she would have a lot more opportunities to ask him questions.

“Thanks.” Was all he said, his weariness obvious in his voice now.

Maybe I should bypass the village, she thought. Guests were rare and she did not want anybody to steal Markdougles.

It was early afternoon when Ipras’ camp came into sight, Atissa considered what she should barter for the deer. It was a big one. Alone, she would not have been strong enough to carry the whole beast. She would have cut out the best pieces from the back and the legs and left the rest for the wolves. Now she had more to bargain with than she had anticipated.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

When they were close, she could see the women of the camp working outside the log houses. As long as it was warm enough, most of the daily activities happened outside. Most were busy preparing the large dinner for all the families of the camp. Others fixed clothing, fetched water, or busied themselves with the dozens of daily chores that kept the small community going.

Atissa could hear them chatting and laughing with each other while they worked. The familial atmosphere felt both warm and alien to her. She had always lived alone with her uncle.

“Hey, Atissa!” A young woman broke away from the group that was handling the fire and came over to them, waving her hand.

Bazia was two years older than Atissa and had always been friendly toward her. She was the daughter of Ipras’ third son and had lived with Ipras since her father had died two winters ago. Young enough to birth more children, her mother had remarried into another family.

“Hello Bazia,” Atissa said. “I have brought you a whole deer today.”

“I can see that. Come over here and put it next to the fire.” Bazia waved them to follow her. “Hey, Atissa has brought as a whole deer! We will have meat for everybody today.”

This brought cheer from the women and children, who would always get their share after the men. Some of the loggers hunted too, but they usually brought their prey to the smaller working camps further out, where the men spent most of the time.

They deposited their load at the indicated spot and Markdougles started to untie the staff when an older woman approached them.

“This is a nice catch Atissa,” she said. “We expect Ipras and some of the other men to come back today. They will be very pleased to find fresh meat waiting for them.”

“Thank you, Reva. Please, give Ipras my greetings.”

Reva was the wife of Ipras’ oldest son and the woman with the most seniority since Ipras’ last wife had died. After her death, Ipras decided not to marry again. He had said he was too old, having already survived three, and old men should leave some for young. The villagers had shaken their heads, but nobody argued with old Ipras.

“I will give you bread and goat cheese,” Reva said. “And we have made some honey pastries today. I will give you some of those as well. Bazia, please go and fetch them.”

“Yes, Reva.”

“Could I also get some wine, too?” Atissa asked.

Bazia looked from her to Reva. Her hesitation was understandable. Wine was one of the most valued goods in the valley. It came with the men when they returned from Riadnos. The women and children only got to drink it on very special occasions like weddings and festivals.

“We have a guest, you see,” Atissa said quickly before Reva could deny her. She pointed to Markdougles who had finally freed his staff.

The women looked over and their eyes went wide. He had been so quiet that they had not noticed that her companion was not her uncle. Not that the two looked anything alike. Uncle Tatros usually left the bartering to her and kept to the side unless Ipras or one of the other men was around.

“Good afternoon,” Markdougles broke the sudden silence.

Atissa blinked. Something had changed from a moment ago. He held himself straight, and although Atissa could still see the fatigue in his eyes, he seemed to exude a kind of serene superiority.

“Atissa, do you mind introducing us,” he asked after a short moment of silence.

“Hm…ah, yes. This is… master Markdougles,” she said. He had not given a title, so she improvised. “Master Markdougles, this is Reva.” She pointed at the older woman.

Reva caught herself first. She bowed to Markdougles. “Master, I welcome you. I am very sorry but Ipras is not here to greet you in person.”

“Thank you. It is my pleasure. You have an… impressive home.”

Reva beamed at his words. “You are too kind.”

“May I ask what you are doing here, so far away from Riadnos or any other important city?” It was Ditsa.

Atissa’s jaw tightened. She had not noticed the woman’s presence. Ditsa joined Reva’s side, inserting herself into the conversation.

Markdougles turned to her. “I had an accident and then I lost my way in the woods. I was lucky enough to run into Atissa, here.” He smiled and nodded to her. “In fact, I fell right over the animal she had just shot. And still, she was friendly enough to help me.”

Some of the women flushed and Atissa could hear giggling. Even the resolute Reva looked at him approvingly. What was up with that? Atissa could not understand the women’s reaction. Sure, in his clothing, Mark looked quite… different. And she liked how he had talked about her. But he had presented himself like a fool. Who, besides small children, gets lost in the woods?

The only one that seemed not to have been caught by his charisma was Ditsa. “Of course, you must stay and be our guests. This is the richest camp on this side of the valley,” she said.

Damn you, Atissa thought, gritting her teeth.

Indeed, Ipras’ camp was the biggest and wealthiest in the valley. They could offer a guest many more comforts than she and her uncle ever could. She would lose her chance to talk more to Markdougles.

Reva frowned but nodded. Helcenaean regarded hosting a guest as an honor. Their stories brought much-welcomed diversion to the isolated life in the valley. Yet, it wasn’t Ditsa’s place to make the offer.

“Indeed, we would be honored if you would stay as our guest,” Reva said, having no choice in this situation.

Ditsa smiled triumphantly.

Atissa felt anger and panic, hoping it wouldn’t show on her face. But what could she say? Now that Reva had made the offer, there was nothing she could do.

“I am very grateful for the offer”, Mark said and Atissa closed her eyes in defeat, “but I must decline. I have already accepted Atissa’s invitation to stay at her home.”

Atissa opened her eyes in surprise. True, she had offered first, and Mark had accepted, but that did not mean much. Ipras was the wealthiest man in the valley, while she was barely a woman living in a small cabin. It might have been different if the offer had come from her uncle, but he could have safely ignored her without expecting to cause offense.

Reva looked at her in surprise. Before she could reply, Ditsa stepped forward. “Nonsense! Atissa lives in a shabby little hut far away from the village. That is no place for anybody who is used to cities. Their household does not even have a woman to provide decent cooking.”

Atissa felt her face turn red and she wanted to launch herself at Ditsa. There was also a slight feeling of embarrassment, which she didn't like to admit to. She had never much cared to master womanly skills. Uncle Tatros had taught her to make and maintain the functional clothing they wore. She had never learned how to make nice tunics and embroidered headscarves. Even her bandana had been a present from Ipras’ late wife.

Reva looked uncertainly from one to the other. She slowly opened her mouth, clearly unsure how to resolve the uncomfortable situation. Markdougles beat her to it.

He turned slightly away from Ditsa and faced Reva directly. “Mistress Reva, before Atissa and I leave, could I use your facilities?”

“Ah.. .” Taken by surprise, Reva failed to answer. She stared first at Markdougles, then looked to Atissa for help.

Don’t look at me, Atissa thought. I don’t know what he is talking about either.

Markdougles seemed to pick up on the confusion and made another attempt. “The toilet?” Then in a lower tone. “Where I can relieve myself.”

“Ah, of course,” Reva said, visibly relieved. She pointed at one of the boys. “Child, show master Markles where the hole is.”

Atissa thought she saw a pained expression on Markdougles’s face, but it disappeared behind his polite smile as quickly as it had appeared.

“Thank, you mistress Reva,” he said, bowing slightly before following the boy behind the houses.

“Did you see his cloth?” one of the women asked as soon he was out of earshot.

“And his face! How do you get skin like that?” another said. Then they all started to discuss their impressions of the odd man. Except for Ditza. She just stood there for a long moment, ignored by the rest of them. Atissa could see her working hard, not to let her face show her anger. When Ditza noticed her, she turned on the spot and disappeared into one of the houses.

Atissa could not stop herself from grinning.

“Atissa”, Reva said and Atissa quickly wiped the grin from her face,” what do you know about master Markles? Do you know where he is from?”

“Yes, and did you see the staff? Maybe he is a magi!” Bazia said exited, joining the two.

“Hush, silly girl,” Reva said, subconsciously touching the Rehala’s amulet dangling on her chest. “Let Atissa speak.”

“I don’t know, Reva,” Atissa said. “We met in the woods. I asked him if he is a magi, but he… he did not say yes.”

“You asked him?” Bazia was gaped at her.

“Yes.” Atissa nodded. “And his name is Markdougles, I think.”

“A strange name,” Reva said. “Bazia, go prepare a sack with the food for Atissa. And pack an amphora with the good wine!”

Atissa was surprised. Apparently, Markdougles had made an even bigger impression than she had thought. They would feast tonight. At least now uncle can’t complain about the guest, she thought.

Bazia hurried off, unhappy that she was excluded from the conversation. Atissa felt sorry for her, but there wasn’t much else she had to tell about the mysterious Markdougles.