Mud splashed over Arabelle’s boots, coating them with another layer. The rest of her clothes were already filthy but not nearly as bad as her leather boots. After the first week of travel she stopped caring about cleaning them as it was nearly impossible to find something that scrubbed well enough to remove the caked mud, and her hands always looked disgusting after, too. The outcome wasn’t worth the effort.
Her inventory was limited and coins were delegated to only the necessities - food, shelter, and most importantly, passage on the caravans to Alestead. The amount of coins she planned to save and use wasn’t far off, but she still found herself short. It wasn’t helped by the fact that she left sooner than she wanted, or that the delays going to Alestead were more frequent than she thought. One caravan during her first week just didn’t show, and she had to scramble to find another. Then, after arriving at the last major city on her travels a few days ago, the lodgings were far more expensive than the rest of her journey. She was five days away from Alestead but only had one more crown to her name. It wasn’t enough to make it there, and her worry grew.
Closing her eyes, Arabelle rested her head against the side of the wagon she’d been riding in. The final stop, Cambon, was a bit bigger than a town but not quite classified as a city. At least according to the traders and other riders of the caravan. It was a popular spot for merchants, though, as it was the last caravan stop before arriving in the absurdly expensive tower city. Arabelle didn’t care about any of that, of course, but she overheard quite a bit during her travels. She only wanted to make it to the city and was afraid she’d run out of coins to earn passage there. The last thing she wanted was to start begging, and stealing goods or a spot on a caravan was a guaranteed way to be jailed. That was not an option.
She sighed. She was so close to her destination, though it felt like it was further from her grasp than where she started. Hiking the distance might be possible, but then there was the logistics of having enough food and water, not to mention shelter from weather or predators. The caravan was set to continue the trek in a few hours, scheduled to arrive in Cambon the next day. Alestead was a three day journey from there, and the caravan leader said the plan was to stop for only a day. That lit a fire under all of the merchants to prepare what they wanted to buy or sell at the last stop, which was likely the caravan leader’s intentions.
That was fine with Arabelle. The sooner she got to Alestead the better. And she was so tired of being alone. It was a feeling that she had long before her current trip started, but her desire to be with her brother was starting to overwhelm her.
“…I didn’t see her anywhere,” a voice suddenly said behind her.
Arabelle perked her ears but didn’t move. It became a habit of hers to listen in to conversations around her. She found out a good deal of information that way without the risk of having to expose herself as a woman traveling alone.
“She has to be on this caravan somewhere,” another voice said. “Markus said he heard about a traveller matching her description at the last stop.”
Arabelle felt her heart thump in her chest. She tried to calm herself - there was no way they were talking about her. No one else knew of her decision to go to Alestead.
“Maybe we can threaten her brother?” The first voice replied. “Surely he knows about her travel plans. They write each other constantly.”
“We don’t need to scare her away. We know she’s going to Alestead, we just need to be patient. Have a few men posted at the entrance to intercept her.”
Arabelle cursed under her breath. They were definitely talking about her. Did they check the farm and somehow figured out she was on the run? Maybe her father lived after all and sent them after her. Or maybe he died and they’re looking for the next easy target to start making threats. If that was the case, though, then Wyn would have been the better choice. They knew where he was, at least. She never stayed in the same place long so she could get to Alestead as soon as possible which made her a harder person to find. But, here they were, looking for her.
Which meant Wyn likely was already threatened, or at least would be soon. If he wasn’t already.
She heard them shuffle around and finish their conversation before leaving. There wasn’t much else they spoke about, just planning with movements and timeframes and some things she didn’t understand. It didn’t matter too much to her, except for the fact that she needed to act, and act soon.
She raised the hood of her cloak to help mask her face and swiftly walked back to her wagon. Maybe she could hide out until they arrived in Cambon and then try to avoid them then. It wasn’t an ideal plan, but she didn’t have much choice while they were stopped on the road between settlements. When she arrived at the wagon, though, she saw an incredibly suspicious man looking around at people. He didn’t seem to be traveling with anyone, and was scowling at everyone after looking them over. There was a scar over his left ear where no hair grew, and his clothes were as black as night.
Arabelle ducked back behind a wagon and peered around the corner to watch the man for a minute. He just kept searching through the crowd around them. It wasn’t uncommon for the traders and travelers to commune during stops, wanting to stretch their limbs and exercise their mouths after so much time on the road. She thought about trying to get lost in the crowd, but the man was searching through the people vigorously.
Suddenly another man stopped beside him and whispered something in his hear. He was equally as menacing, bald with a large black beard while wearing the same black clothes. They must have been the two men talking on the other side of the wagon. They obviously hadn’t found Arabelle yet, but were searching relentlessly for her.
She turned and quickly made her way through the crowd in the other direction. There weren’t many wagons the other way as it was towards the head of the caravan, typically reserved for the wealthier patrons, but Arabelle wondered if they started searching for her at the front and were moving their way to the rear. She was lucky that they missed her so far, but they wouldn’t make that same mistake again.
Cursing her luck, she knew tonight would be a miserable night. But her plan was a simple one, and hopefully effective.
*****
The morning sun welcomed the caravan on the outskirts of Cambon. The caravan leader, Roscoe, timed the journey just right, deciding to set off just before sunrise broke over the skyline in order to arrive right as people started their day. He knew that stopping for only one day would infuriate a good number of the traders, but he found that he always had more success with this strategy as it forced the merchants to be looser with their wares. They’d make up the profits in Alestead, no doubt, but it was a plan that had paid itself off more than once. He could secure some goods for the next few months at heavily discounted prices, ensuring either a tidy profit or security for a possibly poor harvest in the fall and subsequent harsh winter. Regardless, he would likely come out on top with a simple decision.
Today was going to be a great day.
After an hour of securing the horses and ushering the more prestigious guests away into Cambon, Roscoe was readying himself to begin his day of trading. As he turned to leave his personal wagon, his head of security and longtime friend, Bartholomew, was waiting for him with two additional members of his security team. He carried a sense of urgency and concern.
Roscoe furrowed his brow. This wasn’t like the distinguished man. Something was definitely off. “What is it, Bart?”
“A woman, sir,” Bartholomew answered. “Barely old enough to be considered one, at least. She was hiding in one of the storage wagons.”
Roscoe softened a bit. He didn’t have a bleeding heart, but at least it wasn’t something worse. Like a dead merchant or stolen goods. He’d dealt with runaways before, and it was usually a simple matter. But if Bartholomew was coming to inform him with an unusually serious tone, something was truly off. “Why come to me? Where is her family? Or is she a stowaway?”
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Bartholomew shook his head. “No, sir. That was my first thought, but then she presented a travel receipt. Then I thought she might have stolen it, but she said some men were after her and she hid instead of returning to her wagon. I’ve verified with some of the tradesmen that they traveled beside a lone young woman matching her description who didn’t turn up last night. So her story seems to check out.”
Roscoe nodded along. “Have you found the men she described? You know I don’t take kindly to harassers.”
“Unfortunately we have not. They likely ran away when we first entered the town. I’ve notified the local authorities but I don’t have much hope about any success.”
“Yes, yes. Such is the way of the world, Bart. But still, my first question remains. Why come to me?”
“I tried to turn her over to the local guards but she refused. She said she was on her way to Alestead to see her brother and couldn’t be delayed any longer. Said guards would only slow her down.”
Roscoe chuckled. The girl - or rather, young woman - seemed to have some spunk about her. Those kinds of people always made for interesting conversation. And he was desperate for some after such a time on the road. “Did she make any demands? She wasn’t looking for free passage, was she?”
Bartholomew smiled. “The only thing she asked was for work. She wanted to earn the rest of her way to Aleastead.”
Roscoe actually laughed. “Take me to her.”
*****
Arabelle slowly blew on the soup in front of her. The tavern she was in was one of the nicer buildings she’d entered in all of her travels. It was too costly to waste precious coins on nicer meals when meager food was enough, but now the caravan leader insisted on taking her here and feeding her. She was weary of him at first, but after offering to pay for a meal in exchange for her story, she relaxed. He didn’t seem out to get her, and he certainly didn’t appear to be working with the two men. The intimidating man sitting with them, Bartholomew, likely could handle those two men with his eyes closed, too. Arabelle felt more secure than she had in some time.
“When’s the last time you ate?” Roscoe asked. He sat patiently at the table across from Arabelle, his hands folded and resting on the table.
Arabelle ripped a hunk of bread with her teeth and chewed it for a moment before responding. It was impolite to speak while chewing, and she didn’t want to offend the caravan leader, especially after he bought the meal. The bread also wasn’t stale, which made her want to savor it. “Yesterday morning. Some basic rations for travel was all I could afford, and to make them last I’ve only been eating one a day. I have to stretch my last few cloaks after some unexpected delays to Alestead.”
Roscoe nodded as thought he understood perfectly. “One a day isn’t very much. You didn’t plan for some unexpected delays on a long trip?”
“Of course I did. But I left a bit sooner than I wanted with less coin than I planned for. And one a day isn’t so bad when all I’ve been doing is resting. Less energy to expend means less food I need.” She didn’t feel the need to explain that she’d been eating meager portions of food for years as her and her father’s worth decreased from the declining farm and worsening debt.
“At least you planned what you could. Bart here says your brother is in Alestead and you’re going to see him. That true?”
Arabelle paused before taking another spoonful of soup. She told Bart, the other man at the table, the truth, as she felt like lying would have been far worse for her. But now she regretted sharing so much information. Reluctantly, she nodded, but offered nothing further.
“Come, now. I’m not handing you over to anyone. And the men trying to find you are gone. You can tell me.”
Arabelle saw that Roscoe had a mischievous air about him, but he wasn’t unkind. She didn’t need to share every detail, but maybe some more of the truth couldn’t hurt. “My brother is all I have left. My drunken father racked up so much debt while pissing his life away that the burden has fallen to me and my brother. He went to Alestead to become a Climber to help pay it off, while I was simply trying to survive at home. Our farm wilted away into nothing, and I had to get away. Better to go be with my brother in the famed tower city than at home with a bastard of a father.”
Roscoe sat back in his chair but offered no obvious emotion on his face. “Interesting. You couldn’t convince him to sell the farm? Some are worth quite a bit of coin, you know. Land alone could be worth thousands of crowns.”
“I know that. Our father flatly refused. At this point I don’t even care, though. I’m just happy to be rid of that place and all the memories that came with it.” Arabelle’s thoughts started to drift back to times spent doing all of the chores from sunrise to sunset, attempting to farm and being chastised for it, and then moonlighting at the Pig Sty on top of everything else. The work was nearly unbearable, and her father made it ten times worse.
Roscoe slowly nodded. He must have understood her unspoken meaning and thankfully left it alone. “I can understand the sentiment. Being a Climber can be lucrative, too. I’ve heard of some who play their cards right and retire with a small fortune rivaling some of the best merchants and even some of the lesser nobles! If you were to join him, I’m sure your debt could be paid off quite quickly.”
Arabelle recoiled. “Me? A Climber? I have no skills at all that would help me face a magical tower full of monsters! The best I could do would be to find work and start helping that way.”
“Jobs in Alestead are coveted, you know. There are plenty of people who go to the city not looking to climb, but rather to find work in one of the many businesses. People with good experience and backgrounds. What makes you think a young woman from the country whose only experience is homesteading would be better then them?”
Arabelle frowned. She hadn’t considered that.
Roscoe must have sense her concern as he continued without waiting for a response. “Now that isn’t to say there isn’t opportunity there. There absolutely is! And having a good reference would go a long way though I’d wager your brother could just as easily get you work somewhere.”
Arabelle understood the meaning and latched onto it. “You’d be willing to help me? Why?”
“I’m a businessman, first and foremost. I see opportunities and I take them. But I also enjoy a good story and interesting conversation, and you’ve provided a bit of both. And, most importantly, you seem to be in need of safe passage into Alestead, which I can provide.”
Arabelle slowly nodded in agreement. “I can’t pay for your generosity now, but I can work for it. Name a price and I’ll pay it.”
Roscoe looked over to Bartholomew who hid his growing smile. The hardened man had to look away to not show the smile on his face, not wanting to insult the woman. Roscoe just sighed. “You have plenty of gumption, but negotiation isn’t your strong suit, is it?”
“I’m not sure I follow?”
Roscoe leaned in and spoke quietly. “You don’t start by asking to name a price and then promise to pay it. That’s a guaranteed way to be swindled! You come up with a reasonable amount for the trade discussed and then offer less.”
Arabelle felt her cheeks flush. She essentially just gave this man freedom to come up with any amount and then agreed to pay it. While she didn’t have the impression he would cheat her, she immediately regretted her words. Was that how her father accrued so much debt? She had a lot to learn, apparently.
Bartholomew’s smile broke into a laugh, and Roscoe promptly smacked his shoulder. It was more of a friendly gesture than a disciplinary action.
“Thank you for the advice,” Arabelle said, hoping to recover some of her folly. “I have… some coin left, but I can make up the difference once I start work. I can help with the caravan and then find out a way to send you the debt.”
Roscoe sat back in his chair and smiled. “You catch on quick. That’s good! You can help my bookkeeper log inventory until we set off for Alestead. There’s always a guard with her so you won’t be alone. On the road you can help my stable-master care for the horses. Once we arrive to Alestead, Bart and I will escort you personally inside until someone else can help you find your brother. I don’t need to tell you you shouldn’t be alone until you find him.”
Arabelle felt relief swell inside her. For the first time since Wyn came home she felt truly hopeful.
“I have a contact who could use an assistant and I bet the pay would be decent. He’s an honest man. As for paying me back, well… I have a feeling your brother will be able to cover the cost quite easily being a Climber. The fee for everything - work, safe passage, and travel - will be 25 gold crowns.”
The relief Arabelle felt was wiped away in an instant. 25 crowns? That was robbery!
She started to respond but stopped herself. This man was generously offering to escort her to Wyn. Safely. Would any amount of crowns be too much? If Wyn knew about her situation he likely would have offered far more than 25 crowns to make sure she was safe. She should be grateful anyone was willing to help her, and she quickly calmed down.
Arabelle nodded curtly. “25 crowns.”
Roscoe smiled softly. “Excellent. Then go ahead and go back to the wagons. Cecilia, my bookkeeper, will need your help right away.”
Arabelle bowed in respect and instantly set off while a guard from inside the tavern followed her out.
Bartholomew summoned the waiter and ordered two pints of ale. “Only 25 crowns? You’re getting soft in your old age. You know her brother would pay hundreds. Or thousands.”
Roscoe shrugged. “If I would’ve said too much more she would’ve thought I was taking advantage of her. I don’t need the money. And she really needs some help right now. She looked like a wild animal eating that soup.”
“Anyone in her situation would have. But my point still stands.”
A man sat down two pints on the table, and both men grabbed their mug.
“Maybe so,” Roscoe said, raising his mug to Bartholomew in preparation for a toast. “Opportunities don’t come by like this much more. Not since we climbed that gods-forsaken tower ourselves. But here’s to doing some good in this world.”
Bartholomew raised his mug and clinked it with Roscoe’s as foam gently splattered onto the wood table. “Now that’s something worth toasting.”