An Inn West of Seana, Eganene
“Quickly, Mistress! Come,” Kretsca whispered, pulling at her hand.
The girl’s tiny palm felt strange, like the beginning and the end, the firm, new skin meeting her old, worn hand.
“Go, child,” she replied, shooing her out of the doorway. “You can’t help us. What is done is done.”
The girl adjusted her stance and put her hands on her hips. “No. My grandfather says you must come. You will shelter in our wagon.”
Agatha frowned, “A kind offer, but we would freeze.”
They would have to Travel again. There was no other choice. The Innkeep’s banishment was a death sentence. There was no way they could survive in a wagon, not in a helstrom. She wanted to scream and yell, to tell the Innkeep who she was and that Jamie was just a boy, but she could not.
She didn’t even blame the people downstairs. They didn’t understand what had happened to Jamie, why he looked as he did. They believed him a monster for real. And she couldn’t explain it either, not without worsening the situation.
If they knew she had majic, the crowd would run them out even faster. The poor people were terrified of the Family, convinced that if they kept anyone with majic under their roofs that they’d be killed.
Eganene was a different world, now, she knew. Majic was no longer something beautiful, no longer a beacon of hope and enlightenment. Power had brought these people nothing but ruin, the loss of their loved ones and years of hardship.
She looked at Jamie. His actions had been rash and unwarranted, but she’d been too harsh with him. He had pushed back his hood, free now of his disguise, and she could see the ropes of blue climbed his neck. Jaw clenched, his eyes hard, he was glaring at the child in their doorway as though she was the one sending them away.
Agatha cleared her throat, drawing his gaze. She’d wronged him yet again. “Jamie, I’m sorry about what I said. You couldn’t have known…”
“What was I supposed to do?” he growled. “I couldn’t speak to her, couldn’t tell her to stop.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
The little girl bounced on her feet, the light catching the glass and crystals in her hair, “My mother will sing, now. You’ll have just a moment. If you don’t go now, I… I think they will hurt you.”
Agatha looked at her skeptically, “Your mother is good, child. But not that good. As soon as we step foot downstairs, they’ll be on us. I doubt we’ll make it to the door.”
The girl shook her head, the scarves in her hand bouncing along behind her, “Listen! She begins. Get your packs! Get your things! Hurry now!” She looked behind her and down the stairs, “Go now! Out through the kitchen.”
Agatha glared around the room. They had no other option. They wouldn’t survive in the helstrom. And Traveling was an invitation for death. After what she’d done to Ian, the Family would have scouts all over this part of Eganene. They’d feel her Travel and follow her to its end. Even in this storm, the majic repercussion would be visible for miles.
Nature was at fault there. Nature and its balance. It had been the One’s job since she’d held the Umbilicus to oversee the use of majic and balance the world. Without someone to guide the Power, and with the Family murdering all those with talent in Eganene, the balance was gone. In her day, there had been light from spells all over the world. Now, she would be alone.
Her family was dead. Joseph Dean, Milendra, Caroline-- all she had was Bekka.
She couldn’t give up. Her granddaughter had no one else. A chance in the musician’s wagon was more than what she could expect at the hands of the Inn’s patrons.
“All right,” she told the child, searching her face. “Lead on. We will follow.”
Jamie turned and stuffed their things into their packs, pulling one over his shoulder and handing the other to her. His sword he kept in his hand. Agatha picked up Scottie from where he was circling her legs and placed him in the recess at the top of her pack. He looked at her with annoyance, but accepted the treatment.
Waving Jamie out of the way, she followed the child’s bobbing head down the hall, letting him take the rear. The last thing she needed was the Inn’s patrons to see him with naked steel. They’d make short work of both of them.
Kretsca paused at the bottom step. Agatha listened, hearing the low melody of the song in a silent room. There were no words yet, just a gliding series of notes that seemed to blend one into the other. Agatha was unable to identify any single sound. Beneath each note was another, like the hum of a generator at the edge of her hearing. It was not an electric noise, however, but more like the buzz of a summer day, the stretch and pull of the dirt as new shoots of grass broke the crust.
In the darkness of the stairwell, Agatha felt the season change. The helstrom disappeared and was replaced with warmth. Kretsca’s mother wrapped the tune into a picture. From behind her eyelids, Agatha imagined birds lighting on the Inn’s rafters, adding their songs to the melody while beneath her feet, tiny yellow flowers burst into existence. Sunlight warmed the base of her neck, the heat easing the ache in her old bones as her knots in her shoulders unraveled.
The child pulled on her hand, and Agatha started.
Such skill! she thought. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have thought it was majic.
Recovering her senses, she poked her head around the corner. The child had spoken true! The Inn’s patrons were stopped in place, some at their tables and some on their feet. All of them watched the woman on stage.
As Agatha’s eyes found the woman, she understood why. It was not only the lovely song. Kretsca’s mother danced as she sung, her long arms held gracefully, her shapely legs dipping high and low to carry her body as though she were fluid and not flesh and bone. She was a young maiden dancing with abandon in a summer field, the red poppies bending and swaying in time to her movements.
Agatha blinked again, fighting to remain alert. Kretsca was pulling on her hand, trying to get her to walk; she had to move. With her free arm, she linked arms with Jamie, so that when she moved, he would be forced to follow.
He met her eyes in the darkness, his expression seeming young and unsure. Sheathing his sword, he took her arm and nodded once. The song was obviously affecting him as well.
This time, when Kretsca pulled, Agatha followed. She held her breath, knowing it was possible that this was her last day, that the Inn’s patrons would turn on her. But they did not.
They remained transfixed, their eyes on Kretsca’s mother or closed altogether. Many of them swayed where they stood as though they were moved by summer wind. Some were perfectly still, their postures relaxed. Agatha wondered if they were not sleeping.
Behind the bar stood the Innkeep and two of the kitchen workers. Agatha almost stopped moving, scared to get anywhere close to the man, but then she saw Artemus. He sat at the bar, his hands wrapped around his glass and his eyes on Agatha. She could see his lips moving, as if he were singing along with Kretsca’s mother.
Kretsca led Agatha behind the bar, close enough to the Innkeep that she could smell his dishrag and see the hairs on his face. The man had his eyes closed, as did the two members of his staff, the easy rise and fall of his chest indicating that he was deep asleep.
Artemus winked at her as she passed. She couldn’t hear him, but he was definitely singing something. She watched his lips move, deciding that there was something about what he was doing that was eerily familiar. But there wasn’t time to think on it. Instead, she followed the child, step by step, passed the Innkeep and his staff and into the kitchen.
Jamie closed the door behind them.
“Go,” the child instructed, handing Agatha a lantern from the wall. “The song is almost over. You must hurry. The wagon is beside the stables. Wait for me inside, I will come quickly.”
Agatha needed no further instruction. She and Jamie raced for the door.
Outside, the storm was in full effect, the wind ripping and tearing at them as though they were inside a banshee’s cave. Putting her arm up to protect her eyes, she struggled to make headway in the snow. It was almost as high as her knees.
Jamie took pity on her and grabbed her pack, putting himself in front of her and blocking the wind. He forced his way through the snow, carving her a path to follow. Thankfully, as soon as they were close, it was easy to recognize the wagon. The outside had been painted with garish colors, the orange, green and purple striking against the snow. Agatha pulled open the door, and Jamie followed her inside.
The wagon was bigger than she expected. The walls were cluttered, every surface lined by shelving. In the back, she could see some cots. The bed frames were built directly into the walls and the mattresses covered by patchwork quilts.
Jamie put their packs onto the floor. “They didn’t see us,” he exclaimed, shutting the door. “That music had them all in a trance!”
Agatha noticed that the sound of the storm had all but disappeared. She wiped at the snow that clung to her clothes, trying to brush it away. It was cold in the wagon. She could see her breath steaming in the light from the lantern. “There must be majic in that woman’s song,” she muttered.
“Like yours?” he asked.
She shook her head, “I’m not sure. I can’t say I’ve never seen such a powerful performance."
Seconds later, Kretsca entered the wagon, carrying a sack. The wind pushed her up the steps with a blast of snow, and Jamie helped her shut the door.
“You’re safe,” the girl declared. She was smiling broadly. Her missing tooth and the little black hole made Agatha think of Bekka.
“My thanks,” she replied formally. “It is beyond kind of you to offer this to us.” Concern pulled her mouth into a frown, “Still, we can’t stay, I’m sure. Once they realize we’re gone, they’ll check the wagons.”
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Kretsca shook her head, lighting three more candles from their lantern, “The won’t be thinking about you. We will keep them entertained!” She pointed at the floor. “Take that ring and lift it. You will find a folding table and some chairs. We will set it up and have some tea. My grandfather says you will have some questions.”
Jamie laughed, “That’s the most reasonable thing I’ve heard in weeks.”
While he assembled the table, Agatha took the sack from the girl and emptied it on a cot in the back. She found a good deal of food and a good deal of coin.
“Did you steal this money?” she asked the child in surprise.
Kretsca was putting a heavy slate on the table top, but her eyes flicked up to Agatha. “No. My mother sings like a fairy. People always give her money and presents.”
Of course, Agatha thought. That was how they made their money. She shouldn’t be expecting the worst out of the people who were helping her.
She sighed. It had been so many weeks on the run with Jamie, and she was just so tired. These people were helping her. She needed to act like it instead of accusing them.
“Right,” Agatha said. “I’m sorry for saying that.”
The child glanced at her again, her eyebrows arched in curiosity, “You are not from around here, yes?” The girl brought out a stone bowl and filled it with oil, herbs and a floating wick.
Agatha grimaced, unsure how to respond. What could she possibly say that would make sense?
“Your grandson has a funny way of speaking. I think maybe you are from somewhere far away.” Kretsca lit the flame and the interior of the cabin brightened considerably. “We have met people in many places, but I haven’t heard someone speak like him. Where are you from?”
It was Jamie who answered, his voice rough with emotion, “Earth. It’s another world. As far away as you could possibly imagine from here.”
The little girl nodded as if that statement was what she was expecting, “Yes. You don’t have Yillel in your world. My mother is very talented. She made them forget all about you.”
“Yillel?” Jamie whispered softly.
“Sit. My grandfather will be here soon. He went to get your horses and shelter them elsewhere,” she said. “I will make you some food and tea while you wait.”
“This is ridiculous, you know,” Jamie said to no one in particular. “Ten minutes ago there was an Inn full of people that wanted to kill us. Right now, they’re about thirty feet away. We’re trapped in a snowstorm, but, well, it’s time for tea.”
The child smiled up at him, “You don’t need your hood anymore, though.”
“Except it’s so damn cold,” Jamie grumped. Then, he gave the child a helpless look and dropped into a seat. Gently, he undid the tie and pulled off his hood.
“Aren’t you afraid of my scars?” he asked in a quiet voice.
She shook her head and sat beside him, taking his hands in her smaller ones. “I think,” she said, “that it looks like you were hurt. But, that now you are well. This seems like a good omen to me.”
Agatha was surprised he didn’t draw away.
Jamie asked, “Have you seen wounds like this before?”
Kretsca frowned, “I am only eight, but I have seen many wounds and scars. When we lost…”
“Kretsca!” boomed Artemus, entering the cabin.
The little girl jumped up from the table, her orange stockings flashing past as she ran behind Jamie. Agatha wasn’t watching her. The musician entered, made sure the cabin was closed to the elements and took a seat beside her. For some reason, she felt warm all over, as though the man had brought the hearth with him.
Artemus fixed the girl with his gaze, “Kretsca! Where is the tea? This is no way to treat our guests.”
“Sorry,” she squirmed. “I was distracted.”
“I can see that,” the man muttered, turning to Agatha. “And how do you fair Mistress? Do your new accommodations meet with your approval?”
She swallowed, feeling suddenly embarrassed, “I don’t know how to thank you. If you hadn’t sent Kretsca and if her mother hadn’t sung that beautiful song, I think they might have murdered us. If not, then the helstrom would have been our end.”
“You’re warm enough, then?” he asked, searching her face.
Agatha smiled, “I think we’ll make it.”
Kretsca disappeared to the back of the wagon and returned with a strange contraption. To Agatha, it almost looked like a coffee press, except that it had a small candle recessed in the lower pocket. Lighting the wick, the girl cracked the ice in the pitcher beside the door and poured the water into the contraption’s cavity.
The metal exterior of the pot was filigreed, and Agatha reached out to touch the fine design. She had never seen anything like it on Earth or in Eganene. “Where did you…”
Artemus pulled her hand away, “Forgive me, Mistress. If you touch it now, you’d be burned.” He rubbed his thumb across her skin, “These hands were made for greater things, I think.”
She flushed, drawing back her hands. The man flustered her, which was ridiculous. She was eighty; she wasn’t a child to be rattled by a little attention. Thankfully, Jamie came to her rescue.
“Kretsca said you would answer our questions,” he started. “I have a lot of questions.”
“Of course,” Artemus said, inclining his head. “I do not believe we’ve been properly introduced.”
“Jamie,” the boy said, extending his hand Earth-style. “Thank you for helping us.”
Artemus copied his movement and they shook, “You're welcome, although I must admit, I have a request for you as well. It is terrible manners, I know, to go straight to business, but, you seem the type to appreciate such directness.”
Jamie shot Agatha a look, but she shrugged. She had no idea where this was going. Artemus and Kretsca both seemed kind and helpful. However, they were sheltering them, and that meant that both Agatha and Jamie were at their mercy.
“What request?” Jamie asked as Kretsca placed a small tea cup in front of him.
They were roughhewn and serviceable, Agatha thought, something that a Yillil troupe could cart around from place to place without fear they’d be broken. She wondered how these people had faired since the Rebellion. She had a lot of questions for Artemus as well.
When she looked up, she realized the man was looking at her, not Jamie.
“We need your help.”
Agatha frowned, but before she could answer, Scottie squirmed his way out of her pack and jumped on her legs. Purring, he pushed his head into her free hand until she began to pet him.
Kretsca clapped and knelt beside her chair, “Oh! Can I pet him?”
“Of course,” she replied. “But he would be even happier if you had something for him to eat.”
“For everyone, I think,” Artemus added as the child rushed to prepare a plate.
Agatha took a sip of her tea. The taste of juniper berries and sage was almost as good as the warmth it gave her. She cleared her throat, “You were saying?”
“Yes,” Artemus said, taking a sip of his own tea. “You are welcome to stay here whether or not you choose to help us, but it is my hope that you and your grandson will be willing.”
“Willing to what?” Jamie asked.
“It is a dire matter, unfortunately,” Artemus said, brushing his white hair from his eyes. “One that would involve a great amount of danger to you both.”
Agatha’s first instinct was to agree to help, but she bit the inside of her mouth to stop the words from tumbling out. This man might make her feel like she was twenty, but she needed think-- she was traveling to Orlenia in order to find her own help.
Bekka was the first priority. She shot a look at Jamie. And the boy’s sister was a close second.
“You just pulled us out of danger,” Jamie said. He had both of his hands wrapped around his tea cup. It looked small and dainty in his hands.
Agatha shook her head and cleared her throat. “We are traveling south to Orlenia. If not for the helstrom, we would never have stopped at this Inn. My granddaughter, Bekka, and this boy’s sister are missing. We need help from my friends in the south in order to find them and bring them home.”
Artemus grimaced, his bright eyes pained, “I fear we have similar problems then.”
Jamie’s head snapped up, “What do you mean?”
“Two of my daughters and three of my granddaughters are missing as well. Although, missing isn’t really the correct word. We know where they are. If your sister and Bekka were captured by the same people, then they are in terrible danger.”
“What? What danger?” Jamie croaked. His eyes were wide and panicked.
Artemus pulled at his beard, twisting one of the beaded forks. “You know of the Family?”
Agatha nodded, her lips pressed together. She had a bitter taste in her mouth, the tea suddenly no longer palatable.
Jamie set down his tea cup, his hands bunching into fists. He looked at her then, his eyes accusing. “Those are the people you are afraid of. The ones you said I should never speak to.”
“I don’t understand,” she managed, turning back to Artemus. “Why would the Family take your daughters and granddaughters? Why would they take Bekka and Elisabeth?”
“We don’t know,” Artemus said, his voice dark. “They have been taking girls for over a year now. Once taken, they don’t return, unless as chattel on the Black road. We’ve been searching for our people for some time. And we are not alone. This is happening all over Eganene.”
Agatha felt her stomach clench. What would the Family be doing taking women and children? Her mind flew like a whirlwind, terrible possibilities being born and discarded just as quickly. It had been so long since she’d been here. Anything was possible.
Artemus answered her unspoken question. “They bring them to small fortresses, groups of buildings in the woods. I’ve heard them called Facilities. We were able to find one on our way east. It was close to there that we lost our people.”
“I don’t understand,” Jamie said, his eyes darting back and forth between them.
“If your women are missing, it is likely they would be there as well.”
Jamie was on his feet, “Agatha, if that’s true, we have to get them out of there.”
“But why didn’t you rescue your people?” Agatha asked.
Artemus spread his hands, “We are musicians and dancers, not Hunters and warriors. We were searching for help.” He leaned in closer, “I think we have found it in you and your grandson.”
“I don’t think…”
“Hear me out,” Artemus whispered fiercely. “I have tossed the dice. I have seen where they’ve landed. When this storm breaks, we will have a short opportunity. The gods are with us now. I have seen this.”
Agatha swallowed, “You have seen this?”
Jamie was shaking his head, “Come on, Agatha. If there’s a chance these people have Elisabeth and Bekka, I obviously want to help. But just the two of us?”
“I… let me think,” she started, shaken. This whole conversation was not what she had expected. The fact that the Family was taking women and children was beyond disturbing. If they had Bekka and Elisabeth, then time was short.
But what could Jamie do? He was just one man with a sword. Depending on what kind of Family had taken the girls, they could have guns. And why did Artemus think she could help? As far as he knew she was just an old woman. He couldn’t suspect that she had majic….
But she could. She still had Power. She could still help. “If they have Bekka,” she said with a sinking feeling, “we have to try.”
Jamie sat back down, throwing back the rest of his tea in one gulp. “What does that even mean?” He pointed at Artemus, his voice growing louder. “Just because the old man rolled some dice, we’re suppose to do what?”
Artemus refilled their tea cups, letting the silence of the boy’s questions stretch out.
Jamie wasn’t wrong, she thought. He was new to his weapon and she was so long out of practice. “I don’t know…” she said, letting her doubt take voice. “The dice…they…”
“I can show you,” Artemus offered, cutting her off.
Jamie leaned back against the back of his chair, “If you think it’ll mean something, go ahead. I want to help, but we’re just two people. You called this place a fortress. Shouldn’t we find real help?”
Agatha was momentarily surprised, but remembered he’d grown-up on Earth. This was all new to him. He couldn’t know what the dice meant and he didn’t know what majic could really do. She stretched her fingers, feeling the tug of energy that thrummed inside her. What would she be capable of?
At Artemus’ nod the child jumped up to get the board while he removed their tea and cleared the table. As Kretsca hurried about, Artemus sat and began rubbing his hands together. Agatha watched him curiously. It had been years since she had seen someone do Hia Ta.
It had been a game in her parents time, one that children played to pass the time. But after she held the Umbilicus, there were frequent reports that what some saw when they rolled the dice was actually coming to pass. There was no science to it. No studies, not like there would have been on Earth, but it became something more than a game.
Agatha turned to Jamie and was surprised to find the boy staring at the board in recognition. “You’ve seen this before?” she asked.
He nodded, “I think…it can’t be. It was back home.”
Artemus smiled, “Home? Where is your home? I’ve been to many places. Perhaps I know it.”
“Was it you?” Jamie whispered, his face crumpling in confusion. “But I was just a child and you were so old.”
“Mmm,” he replied. “No, not yet, then. But it seems one day I might.”
Jamie was shaking his head, “What?”
Agatha didn’t understand what was happening between the two. They couldn’t have known each other before. It didn’t make any sense.
“Watch,” the old man, commanded, and then he threw the dice.
They thundered into the silence of the wagon, rolling and tumbling across the white and yellow circles. Artemus’ eyes were closed and his hands hovered over the board. His fingers trembling as if he could feel where each dice was landing, as though invisible strings connected him to their sides.
And then he spoke, his voice low and resonant. It filled the wagon’s space with sound. “The place of pain is weak. The storm has claimed many of its protectors.” He pointed at two interlocking circles, one small and one large. “There are others who seek this place, a man and child who will help us.”
Agatha squinted at the board trying to see what he was seeing, but she saw nothing more than a game. The girl, Kretsca, was standing beside Artemus. Her eyes were very wide. She was looking at the table with concern and awe, as though she could see the image Artemus was describing.
The man pointed at a lighter circle. One of the dice had fallen just on the edge so that it was perfectly split on the inside and out. “She who has lived in both worlds has the Power to protect the innocent.”
He shook himself, seeming to come out of whatever trance he was having. He looked at Agatha, “The price is very high.”
“What does that mean?” Jamie asked, his voice biting.
Artemus shook his head, “I don’t know. I ask this of you to help those I love and hold dear. Perhaps to help those you care about, too. But the cost is high, Agatha.”