Faenella, Eganene
“Twelve nos, then Mistress, but it’s a crime I tell you. My wife’ll have my hide. She made each of these with her own hands, sewing until her fingers bled.”
Jamie turned his eyes from the sleeping guard and watched as Agatha opened her pack. Twelve nos? She didn’t have twelve nos. And what the heck was a nos?
She must be bartering, he thought. He wondered what she was going to trade.
Jamie turned, forgetting that he wasn’t supposed to talk, that his voice was different than everyone else’s.
Luckily, the merchant spoke first.
“You would like to trade those?” The man sounded eager, gesturing to the needles resting on her palm.
“All four, if you throw in another two blankets and a pack for my grandson.”
The man didn’t hesitate, but quickly scooped up the offer. “Glad to, Mistress,” he replied, and placed the five blankets into an oversized pack. He handed it to Jamie absently and turned back to his newfound wealth.
“Is there anything else I can get for you? My wife’s likely to marry me again when I give her these for Feastime.”
Agatha shook her head, said goodbye, and put her arm through Jamie’s.
“He just sold you all that for some pins!”
“Keep your voice down,” she hissed, pulling him to the side of the road. “Needles and other metals are worth a lot here.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. We don’t have much in the way of engineering or metalwork,” she explained. “Eganese craftsman can make some crude objects like lamps and swords, but fine work like needles are worth a lot, especially in the countryside.”
“You brought them with you?”
The old woman nodded. “They’re one of the only things that don’t go bad here.” Glancing about to make sure they weren’t over heard, she continued, “We tried to bring a lot of things back in the beginning. Your world has so much. But most things just disappear.”
“Like our clothes and food?”
“Right. Fortunately, metal objects from your world can sometimes can be brought over.”
“Like the pins?” It seemed so strange for them to be valuable. Every old lady he ever met had a pincushion filled with pins.
Agatha grimaced, “Pins and guns.”
“Oh,” was all the Jamie could think to say. “You didn’t have a gun?”
“Never needed one,” was her explanation.
At the next few stalls Agatha traded more of her needles for provisions, dried meats and vegetables and some biscuits that looked as flat as rice cakes and were colored like brownies. Jamie watched sadly as each disappeared into the pack. Finally, his stomach could bear it no longer and he turned away.
By his best guess, there were probably seventy people shopping. Most were dressed in rough spun clothing, the women in dresses and the men favoring tunics over tighter fitting trousers. They weren’t exactly tights, but Jamie was grateful for the pants Selinda had given him. There was no way he was going to wear a dress.
Several other men were dressed as he was, sporting lined deerskin parkas and trousers. Jamie had long underwear beneath his clothes and his guess was they did too. They looked like they spent most of their day outdoors.
He watched them navigate through the crowds, their confident gait light and graceful. The townspeople moved unconsciously from their paths, sometimes stepping into the murkier parts of the road. With few exceptions, they were the only people carrying weapons. He noted that their bows were slung beside their packs. A couple men also had short swords at their hips. Standing there staring, he shouldn’t have been surprised when he was noticed.
“Hey’ya,” a man said beside him. Jamie almost jumped.
“Hey,” he replied, looking for Agatha. He spotted her several stalls over, her back to him.
“You’re new here.”
The man was of a height with Jamie, with brown eyes and thick, blond hair that he wore braided. Regarding him candidly, the newcomer sized up his clothes, his gaze lingering on Jamie’s hands.
Stuffing them into his pockets, Jamie nodded helplessly. He prayed that Agatha would turn around.
“You ought to speak with Jamison, then. He holds the contracts for this region. We do all our billing through him. Doesn’t matter where you’re from.”
Jamie nodded. He had no idea what the man was talking about. A contract for what, and who would he be billing?
“You can carry here, too. I noticed you’re unarmed. Our town’s got no law against people owning their weapons. If you need to have your blade worked on, Smitty is the best.” The man smiled, “I know everyone’s supposed to say that about their Smith, but in this case, it’s true.”
Jamie answered with a smile of his own, jutting his chin up the road.
“Yep, he’s up that way. If you tell him Carl Maywerth sent you, I’d be obliged. What’s your name, son?”
Jamie shot another glance at Agatha, but she was in animated conversation with a merchant. He was on his own on this one. “Paul,” he replied, grasping the older man’s hand. The man had twenty years and a hundred pounds on him, but he shook his hand like a friend. Jamie smiled.
“You staying long?” Carl asked.
“No,” Jamie said, shaking his head. “Passing through.”
“Me, too. There’s something happening up north. You heard anything?”
Jamie shook his head. “We’ve been traveling the last few weeks.”
“Jamison’ll fill you in,” Carl replied, his eyes scanning the crowd. “I’m headed to his office. You want to walk with me?”
Jamie gestured to the market.
“Oh, you have business first. No problem. Bounty office is just up this road a bit and then left. You won’t miss it.”
“Thanks,” he managed, noticing the Hunter had a knife at his hip. How many weapons did the man need?
The man looked him up and down again. Jamie fought the urge to shift his feet, “Are your travels taking you north?”
Of course, Jamie wanted to say. His sister was north, in Philly. If he went with this man and all his weapons, he might be able to find her. He might be able to save her from whatever, whoever, these Family people were.
But he couldn’t risk it. He had to stay with Agatha. He knew her motivations. Carl, well, he didn’t know anything about Carl. Once Jamie found his sister, Agatha could get them home. Carl didn’t seem like he had any special powers.
Jamie shrugged, uncommitted.
“Too bad,” Carl replied. “You look like you can handle yourself.”
Jamie’s blue eyes met Carl’s. He held his gaze for a moment, two. Jamie looked away first, “Thanks.”
The huge man smiled, sweeping his blond ponytail over his shoulder. “Tell Jamison to give you something good. And if you change your mind, head north. I’m telling you, things are moving.” He looked like he was considering saying more.
Finally, he said quietly, “Family’s moving.”
Jamie worked hard not to react.
Carl looked at him meaningfully, but Jamie didn’t know what to say. Finally, he settled on nodding.
The man repositioned his bow. Voice low, he said, “I heard they’re chasing a girl and a man. One of theirs.”
Jamie’s shoulders jerked, “A girl?’
Carl nodded. “They have the Dogs out. But the contract is really on him. The reward is huge.”
Jamie sighed, his exhale a soft sound in the cold air.
“I’ll be headed out in the morning. I’ve got some business to take care of first. If you change your mind, come meet me at the Inn. I could use another sword.”
Jamie said nothing. His mind was blank.
If they were chasing a girl, could it be Elisabeth or Bekka?
“If I don’t see you for a while, you owe me a beer for introducing you to Smitty. He really is the best around.”
With a nod, the man headed down the road, stepping agilely around the puddles that pockmarked its surface. Unlike the other men, he wore his sword over his back, beside his bow.
Agatha appeared beside him and followed his line of sight. “Who was that?”
“Carl Maywerth,” he replied.
“You were talking to him,” she said. It wasn’t a question.
Jamie glared at her. “Not like I had much choice. He came up and started the conversation. He thought I looked new here and that I should talk to someone named Jamison about billing for contracts.”
Agatha looked surprised, “What did you say?”
“As little as possible. He told me that things were happening up north,” Jamie continued, pitching his voice low. “Do you think he was talking about us?”
Agatha nodded, “Probably. What else did he say?”
“That the Family was hunting a girl,” Jamie said, watching her flinch. “Carl said there was a man with her, one of theirs. And that there was a contract out for him.”
“Interesting,” she replied. “We need to find out...”
“Agatha, it could be Elisabeth or Bekka they’re hunting.”
She shook her head, “I don’t think so. There’s no reason for the Family to be after either of them. Especially not if this girl is running with an Employee.”
“If there is even a chance, we need to go!” his said, his voice rising.
Agatha picked up Scottie and let him curl up on the blankets in her bag. “We need weapons and help, Jamie. We already talked about this.”
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He took a calming breath. As much as he wanted to scream at her, it wasn’t going to help. “Carl said that we should go to Smitty for weapons.”
“Good,” she continued, looking around. “Let’s do that. With all the weapons around here, the smith is probably pretty good. We’re lucky. It sounds like a lot of towns don’t allow weapons.”
“Why?”
“Family,” she said, quietly. “No one has mentioned them, but it seems obvious that people are afraid. Carl must have thought a lot of you. He could have mistook you for a Hunter.”
“What’s that?”
As they were talking Agatha fished a few coins from her pocket.
“I thought you didn’t have any money,” Jamie snapped, annoyed that she had lied to him.
“This is your world’s money. I don’t have any Eganese. I need the rest of the sowing needles for the horses and weapons. But, we should be able to trade this for something to eat. Come on.”
After a curiously short conversation, she purchased two skewers of meat from a nearby vendor. They sat on a small stone fence lining the boundary of the market. Jamie wolfed the meat down in seconds, stopping at last to savor the few remaining mouthfuls. Blackened, beef chunks spiced with unidentifiable seasonings awakened tastebuds he’d forgotten. He wiped his mouth to keep from drooling.
That had to be the most delicious meal he’d ever had. Well, not exactly a meal. “Can we get more of that?” he asked, hopeful.
Agatha looked at her change. “I think I have enough for another round. It’s good to see you’ve got your appetite back.”
When she returned, he inhaled the second skewer and sat back to watch the market.
“So what’s a Hunter?”
“They perform a few different services,” she said between mouthfuls. Scottie curled about her feet anxiously. She took pity on him and gave him the last bite.
Jaime thought he might actually be jealous.
“Sometimes they hunt for a town, bringing in food and animal skins. Sometimes they hunt for people. Kind of like a bounty hunter. If someone breaks the law, they track them and bring them back to town for justice.”
“Are there a lot of them?” he asked looking around. From where they were sitting, he could see at least five.
“Plenty of the first group, not so many of the second. I should have thought about it before I let Selinda dress you like that. She thought it’d be better clothing for traveling and I agreed.”
Jamie related to Agatha the rest of what Carl had said.
“It certainly sounds like he’s from the second group. Most of the time, they’re not so talkative.”
“Well, I liked his idea about seeing Smitty,” Jamie offered.
Agatha smiled, “Sure. Better to know a merchant somehow, than not at all. And if he thinks you are a Hunter, we might actually be able to afford something.”
They found Tobius first. Actually, he found them, all but scaring Jamie to death when he poked his head out of a building and shouted. Inside, the scent of fresh straw was a welcome relief from the overwhelming smell of the market. Jamie counted twelve horses, boarded in small, individual stalls.
Hay was stacked behind a work desk in the entryway and a timepiece ticked against the wall. Agatha’s eyes darted to the clock.
Jamie remembered her words about metal in Eganene. This man must be wealthy if he could afford something with working, metal parts.
Tobias stood beside his desk. The wooden surface so low to the ground that he looked like a giant at a child’s workstation. His son, Sam, was nowhere in evidence. Jamie was relieved. He hadn’t like the odd way he looked at him.
“Glad you came,” the man said. “I heard you traded some needles earlier and I didn’t want you to spend your wealth before you came to see me.”
Jamie would have laughed, but he realized the man was serious.
“Mistress Mary, you are a lady of surprises.”
He lead them over to the first of the horses. It was a black gelding with four white stockings. The big man waved Jamie forward.
“This one is called Berrybain,” he explained as Jamie slipped inside the stall. “Five years old, I’ve had him since he was a colt. Sold him once to Marybeth, Smitty’s wife, but she didn’t want to keep him. Said he was too big for her and that he ate all her berries. That’s how he got his name.”
Tobius led Agatha down to the next stall. Berrybain was the first horse Jamie had ever been this close to. He was relieved it hadn’t tried to bite him. Large, soft lips covered the creature’s teeth. The animal was so large that Jamie hardly came to the top of his shoulder.
The horse stood looking at him carefully, almost as though it was sizing him up. Approaching carefully, he extending his hand to touch Berrybain’s smooth, black neck. The horse stamped his foot menacingly.
“You got to let him smell your hand first boy,” Tobius admonished, peeking around the corner at the sound. “Don’t tell me you never rode a horse before?”
I’ve never even touched one, Jamie thought, but the man hadn’t expected an answer and was already walking away. Agatha trailed along behind him.
Jamie decided he might as well give it a shot. Although, given the way Berrybain’s brown eyes were rolling, he wasn’t sure he was making the best decision.
Holding his breath, he gingerly lifted his hand up beneath the horse’s mouth. He could feel warm air rush over his fingers and the tickle of whiskers as Berrybain snorted into his palm. Jamie almost drew his hand away.
The black horse tossed his mane and pulled his lips back.
I never knew their teeth were that big, he thought inanely.
Slowly, his fingers uncurled, their pale lengths ripe to be ripped away. Several seconds ticked by with man and beast locked in silent battle. Jamie held eye contact and hardly dared to breathe. He could feel the warmth of the horse’s body. The massive animal radiated strength in waves.
Dust and sunlight streamed in from the broad open doors. Without looking away, Jamie took a step closer to the beast, his fingers reaching up to stroke its powerful neck. The horse nickered and then dropped its head down to where Jamie’s hand cupped its jaw. Pushing its massive body against him, Jamie had to move quickly not to lose his balance.
When Agatha returned, she found the boy with his head against Berrybain’s back. He was stroking the animal with his eyes closed. The old woman watched him, a soft smile spreading on her face. Tobius had discreetly gone outside, for the man had seen this scene a score of times. The boy, the new Hunter, had found his first mount. There would never be a moment at sweet as this, by his estimation anyway, and he intended to let it stretch as long it could.
Jamie took a deep breath, the horse’s clean scent at once new and comfortable. He whispered then, for a while, telling the animal the things he would not tell Agatha. Finally, he patted the horse, noticing that both Agatha and Tobius had left the long barn.
“Took you long enough,” Agatha smiled when he joined them outside.
The boy shrugged and Tobius said, “Your grandmother bought you your horse, boy. Berrybain’ll be a good mount, but mind you treat him with care. That horse is smart and won’t take kindly to be treated ill.”
Jamie was about to protest that he would never do such a thing, but four men weaving their way through the market stole his attention. Their clothing and gait marked them as different. They wore finely embroidered jackets and had shiny buttons instead of common rope lacing. Silver needlework lined their sleeves and bordered their upturned collars.
At least one of men was carrying a gun. It bulged from his waist, his dark coat hugging tightly against the layers of clothing below. One of the men was completely bald and smaller than the others. His face was split with a nasty scar.
“Inside, both of you,” Tobius spat, all but pushing them into his barn.
Jamie shot a questioning look at Agatha, but she didn’t see it. Already inside, she was leading an athletic, brown mare from one of the stalls.
Tobius ran to the back and returned with two, polished, leather saddles. “Get your horse, boy,” he directed, his voice betraying his anxiety.
Jamie balked. “What’s going on?” he asked Agatha, not noticing Tobius reaction to his voice.
Agatha shook her head emphatically. “Tobius will help you with the horse. We need to go!”
“What about my weapon?”
Agatha sighed heavily. “Paul. We’ll stop at Smitty’s first, but we need to move fast. Those men are Family.” She walked her chestnut mare closer, the animal docile to her touch. She said softly, “Tobius doesn’t like the Family, but he doesn’t know who we are. Let’s not give him anymore hints.”
Jamie finally realized that he’d spoken. How could he have been so stupid?
Checking for the man’s reaction, he found Tobius inside Berrybain’s stall. He was just finishing saddling the black horse. The great animal was snorting and prancing in anticipation.
“Hop on, boy,” Tobius said, brown eyes twinkling. “Bain seems to want to run and you’re in for a pleasure. I’ve never owned a faster horse.”
“Think we’ll walk them up to Smitty’s forge, Tobius,” Agatha replied, saving Jamie the humiliation of admitting that he had no idea what he was doing. “Paul needs a new sword, so we’ll leave from there. My thanks to you for all your kindness. If we see you on the way back, we’ll give you word of the babe and stop for a bit. It would be nice to share a meal.”
The large man grinned and shook both their hands. When he led them to the barn doors, they found the Family men nowhere in sight. Both Jamie and Agatha sighed.
Scottie ran mewling from the barn. Agatha reached down and the cat leapt into her arms. Once she settled him into her pack, she turned back to Tobius.
“You watch out for that lot,” Tobius said, reading their minds. “Don’t know if you’ve had trouble with them before, but Faenella’s seen its share. They don’t much care for us allowing weapons.” He shrugged, “But as far into the forest as we are, we don’t have much choice.”
“Once you get your sword from Smitty, I’d suggest you pack it until you’re away,” he said marking Jamie. “A boy like you has a fine future ahead. My own boy Sam…well, there isn’t any easy way to disagree with the Family.”
The connotations were obvious. The reason Sam wasn’t in the barn was because he was hiding. Jamie felt guilty for having disliked him. He couldn’t imagine living his life in fear.
Agatha shook the man’s hand and they started up the hill. Leading his horse, Jamie looked back to see Tobius watching them, a hand raised in farewell.
There are good people here, he thought. We will find someone to help us.
Dusk was just starting to settle upon Faenella. The sky was a bruised red with thick clouds blocking the fading light. Turning down the lane to Smitty’s forge, Agatha grabbed Berrybain’s reins and pulled them into the cover of the surrounding forest.
“Get down!” she hissed.
Jamie hesitated, “And the horses?”
“Get them down too.”
It took him several minutes, but Berrybain reluctantly lay down in the forest earth. Vindicated, he watched Agatha struggle with her own mount until he finally went to help. Laying his cheek against the mare’s face, he whispered in her ear. The horse finally folded its legs beneath it.
Agatha’s face was a mask of surprise, “So you have been around horses before.”
“No.”
“Well, how’d you do that?”
He shook his head, “I don’t know how to explain it. I just know what she needed to lay down.”
When she didn’t reply, Jamie followed her gaze. Down the dirt road, a house sat in a valley. There was a forge behind the home. It’s massive stone chimney was cloaked in smoke. An assortment of weaponry glinted on the rack beside its door and large stacks of wood were piled everywhere.
It would have been idyllic, Jamie thought, had the people in front of the house not been on their knees. The Family men stood before them, guns drawn.
Dogs, he reminded himself. That’s what Carl had called them.
It was a man, his wife and a teenage son. Jamie couldn’t hear what the men were saying, but it was obvious the three people were in trouble. As he watched, one of the Family men, kicked the father in the ribs. It sent the big man tumbling backward.
The woman scrambled along the ground to clutch him, her cries filling the air. The boy leapt to his feet, rushing his father’s attacker. The Dog hardly moved, backhanding the boy and kicking him in the backside.
“I’ll not ask you again, old man,” the Dog yelled, loud enough for Jamie and Agatha to hear. He rubbed his bald head, “You tell me or the buildings burn.”
Jamie watched helplessly as the father struggled to rise. He was a huge man, his arms corded with muscle and a chest twice as wide as his attackers. But, he was also powerless.
Gently, the man pushed his wife and son behind him. Jamie could hear the woman weeping, but the father said nothing.
With a flick of his wrist, the bald man sent the others away. Two men went for the forge and another entered the home. The silent scene erupted with the sound of glass shattering. The woman and child huddled more closely against the father’s back.
The Dogs found the forge locked and its windows grated. From within the safety of the brush, Jamie allowed himself a small smile. Perhaps the people would come away with something after all.
His hope was short-lived. From beneath their cloaks, Jamie saw the men untie what looked like canteens. Uncorking them, they splashed the dark contents against the side of the forge. Jamie couldn’t tell what it was, but had the uncomfortable feeling that he knew what it was for.
As soon as they were done, the other man rushed from the house and tossed something against the wall of the forge. Jamie heard a great whooshing noise, like a gigantic bird had flapped its wings.
The buildings burst into flames. It grew quickly, consuming the spilled oil and dry wood. The woman screamed and the father turned to take her in his arms. For a second, the flames were too bright and powerful to see clearly. But then Jamie saw the boy rush the bald man, a stout stick clenched in his hand.
The man hardly moved, but swung his leg out lazily.
The boy tripped, falling face first into the snow as his stick tumbled away. As the boy hauled himself up, the four Family men crowded close. Jamie could hear their laughter booming through the forest.
The boy wiped the mud from his eyes and gazed at the forge and the flames.
“Get out of here, you brat,” the man hollered.
The child looked back to his parents.
“I said, be gone, boy,” the man repeated, cocking his gun and aiming for the boy’s chest. “Go now. Grow big and the next time we’re here, be sure I’ll find you.” The bald man smiled to his friends, “Wouldn’t want to waste that fight.”
Jamie could barely hear the words. Rage filled him, hot and overpowering. It was the smell of New Orleans in the dead of August, when the heat became unbearable and the streets filled with trash. It was the smell of cruelty.
Piece of shit, Jamie thought angrily.
Without realizing he was moving, he began edging toward the tree line. He wasn’t sure what he would have done. The man had a gun and he had nothing.
Agatha grabbed his jacket and hauled him back.
“No!” she hissed, her eyes wild. “You’ll be dead before you reached him.”
Jamie wanted to argue, but a woman’s high wail made him turn. The mother was on her feet, urging her son to run. The kid stood immobile, stubbornly holding his ground.
“Ian, go!” she screamed as one of the men smashed his fist to her head. She slumped to the ground, her husband cradling her as she fell.
The boy took a step closer to the man with the gun. “Leave them alone!” he yelled.
“Get out of here, kid. Before I change my mind.”
“They didn’t do anything!” the boy shouted back, his body rigid.
“Leave or join them,” the bald man shrugged. “Makes no difference to me.”
“Ian, go.” The words were almost too low to hear, coming from the man who knelt in the dirt cradling his wife’s unconscious body. Safe behind his barrier of trees, Jamie quivered with rage.
“Now, Ian. Go! For the love of your mother, go!” the father yelled, his voice betraying him at the end, cracking with emotion.
The longhaired boy turned and ran up the dirt path towards where Jamie and Agatha were hiding. Jamie’s eyes were on him when the shots rang out.
Birds shrieked, taking to the sky. The horses snorted behind him. He couldn’t look, didn’t dare take his eyes from the teenager.
“Grab him,” he heard Agatha say, but he was already moving. Shadowing the boy from the trees, Jamie narrowed the distance. His powerful legs made good time, his exhaustion and pain forgotten.
As the boy turned the bend in the road, Jamie stepped out in front of him.
The child froze. Jamie was shocked to see they were almost of a height. Tears streaked the kid’s face, framing brown eyes wide with panic.
“I’m a friend,” Jamie said. “This way. We’ll hide you.”
The boy glanced back, as though to see his family once more, and then he followed Jamie into the brush.