Читать книгу The Demon Cycle Books 1-3 and Novellas: The Painted Man, The Desert Spear, The Daylight War plus The Great Bazaar and Brayan’s Gold and Messenger’s Legacy - Peter V. Brett - Страница 61

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‘Ay, Jizell!’ Skot cried as the old Herb Gatherer came to him with her bowl. ‘Why not let your apprentice take the task for once?’ He nodded at Leesha, changing another man’s dressing.

‘Ha!’ Jizell barked. She was a heavyset woman, with short grey hair and a voice that carried. ‘If I let her give the rag baths, I’d have half of Angiers crying plague within a week.’

Leesha shook her head as the others in the room laughed, but she was smiling as she did. Skot was harmless. He was a Messenger whose horse had thrown him on the road. Lucky to be alive, especially with two broken arms, he had somehow managed to track down his horse and get back in the saddle. He had no wife to care for him, and so the Messengers’ guild had produced the klats to put him up in Jizell’s hospit until he could do for himself.

Jizell soaked her rag in the warm, soapy bowl and lifted the man’s sheet, her hand moving with firm efficiency. The Messenger gave a yelp as she was finishing up, and Jizell laughed. ‘Just as well I give the baths,’ she said loudly, glancing down. ‘We wouldn’t want to disappoint poor Leesha.’

The others in their beds all had a laugh at the man’s expense. It was a full room, and all were a little bed-bored.

‘I think she’d likely find it in different form than you,’ Skot grumbled, blushing furiously, but Jizell only laughed again.

‘Poor Skot has a shine on you,’ Jizell told Leesha later, when they were in the pharmacy grinding herbs.

‘A shine?’ laughed Kadie, one of the younger apprentices. ‘He’s not shining, he’s in loooove!’ The other apprentices in earshot burst into giggles.

‘I think he’s cute,’ Roni volunteered.

‘You think everyone is cute,’ Leesha said. Roni was just flowering, and boy-crazed. ‘But I hope you have better taste than to fall for a man that begs you for a rag bath.’

‘Don’t give her ideas,’ Jizell said. ‘Roni had her way, she’d be rag-bathing every man in the hospit.’ The girls all giggled, and even Roni didn’t disagree.

‘At least have the decency to blush,’ Leesha told her, and the girls tittered again.

‘Enough! Off with you giggleboxes!’ Jizell laughed. ‘I want a word with Leesha.’

‘Most every man that comes in here shines on you,’ Jizell said when they were gone. ‘It wouldn’t kill you to talk to one apart from asking after his health.’

‘You sound like my mum,’ Leesha said.

Jizell slammed her pestle down on the counter. ‘I sound like no such thing,’ she said, having heard all about Elona over the years. ‘I just don’t want you to die an old maid to spite her. There’s no crime in liking men.’

‘I like men,’ Leesha protested.

‘Not that I’ve seen,’ Jizell said.

‘So I should have jumped to offer Skot a rag bath?’ Leesha asked.

‘Certainly not,’ Jizell said, ‘At least not in front of everyone,’ she added with a wink.

‘Now you sound like Bruna,’ Leesha groaned. ‘It will take more than crude comments to win my heart.’ Requests like Skot’s were nothing new to Leesha. She had her mother’s body, and that meant a great deal of male attention, whether she invited it or not.

‘Then what does it take?’ Jizell asked. ‘What man could pass your heart wards?’

‘A man I can trust,’ Leesha said. ‘One I can kiss on the cheek without him bragging to his friends the next day that he stuck me behind the barn.’

Jizell snorted. ‘You’ll sooner find a friendly coreling,’ she said.

Leesha shrugged.

‘I think you’re scared,’ Jizell accused. ‘You’ve waited so long to lose your flower that you’ve taken a simple, natural thing every girl does and built it up into some unscalable wall.’

‘That’s ridiculous,’ Leesha said.

‘Is it?’ Jizell asked. ‘I’ve seen you when ladies come asking your advice on bed matters, grasping and guessing as you blush furiously. How can you advise others about their bodies when you don’t even know your own?’

‘I’m quite sure I know what goes where,’ Leesha said wryly.

‘You know what I mean,’ Jizell said.

‘What do you suggest I do about it?’ Leesha demanded. ‘Pick some man at random, just to get it over with?’

‘If that’s what it takes,’ Jizell said.

Leesha glared at her, but Jizell met the gaze and didn’t flinch. ‘You’ve guarded that flower so long that no man will ever be worthy to take it in your eyes,’ she said. ‘What good is a flower hidden away for no one to see? Who will remember its beauty when it wilts?’

Leesha let out a choked sob, and Jizell was there in an instant, holding her tightly as she cried. ‘There, there, poppet,’ she soothed, stroking Leesha’s hair, ‘it’s not as bad as all that.’

After supper, when the wards were checked, and the apprentices sent to their studies, Leesha and Jizell finally had time to brew a pot of herb tea and open the satchel from the morning Messenger. A lamp sat on the table, full and trimmed for long use.

‘Patients all day and letters all night,’ Jizell sighed. ‘Thank light Herb Gatherers don’t need sleep, eh?’ She upended the bag, spilling parchment all over the table.

They quickly separated out correspondence meant for the patients, and then Jizell grabbed a bundle at random, glancing at the hail. ‘These are yours,’ she said, passing the bundle to Leesha and snatching another letter off the pile, which she opened and began to read.

‘This one’s from Kimber,’ she said after a moment. Kimber was another of Jizell’s apprentices sent abroad, this one to Farmer’s Stump, a day’s ride to the south. ‘The cooper’s rash has gotten worse, and spread again.’

‘She’s brewing the tea wrong; I just know it,’ Leesha groaned. ‘She never lets it steep long enough, and then wonders at her weak cures. If I have to go to Farmer’s Stump and brew it for her, I’ll give her such a thumping!’

‘She knows it,’ Jizell laughed. ‘That’s why she wrote to me this time!’

The laughter was infectious, and Leesha soon joined in. Leesha loved Jizell. She could be as hard as Bruna when the occasion demanded, but she was always quick to laugh.

Leesha missed Bruna dearly, and the thought turned her back to the bundle. It was Fourthday, when the weekly Messenger arrived from Farmer’s Stump, Cutter’s Hollow, and points south. Sure enough, the hail of the first letter in the stack was in her father’s neat script.

There was a letter from Vika, as well, and Leesha read that one first, her hands clenching as always until she was assured that Bruna, older than ancient, was still well.

‘Vika’s given birth,’ she noted. ‘A boy, Jame. Six pounds eleven ounces.’

‘Is that the third?’ Jizell asked.

‘Fourth,’ Leesha said. Vika had married Child Jona – now Tender Jona – not long after arriving in Cutter’s Hollow, and wasted no time in bearing him children.

‘Not much chance of her coming back to Angiers, then,’ Jizell lamented.

Leesha laughed. ‘I thought that was given after the first,’ she said.

It was hard to believe seven years had passed since she and Vika exchanged places. The temporary arrangement was proving permanent, which didn’t entirely displease Leesha.

Regardless of what Leesha did, Vika would stay in Cutter’s Hollow, and seemed better liked there than Bruna, Leesha, and Darsy combined. The thought gave Leesha a sense of freedom she never dreamt existed. She’d promised to return one day to ensure the Hollow had the Gatherer it needed, but the Creator had seen to that for her. Her future was hers to choose.

Her father wrote that he had caught a chill, but Vika was tending him, and he expected to recover quickly. The next letter was from Mairy; her eldest daughter already flowered and promised, Mairy would likely be a grandmother soon. Leesha sighed.

There were two more letters in the bundle. Leesha corresponded with Mairy, Vika, and her father almost every week, but her mother wrote less often, and oftentimes in a fit of pique.

‘All well?’ Jizell asked, glancing up from her own reading to see Leesha’s scowl.

‘Just my mum,’ Leesha said, reading. ‘The tone changes with her humours, but the message stays the same: “Come home and have children before you grow too old and the Creator takes the chance from you.”’ Jizell grunted and shook her head.

Tucked in with Elona’s letter was another sheet, supposedly from Gared, though the missive was in her mother’s hand, for Gared knew no letters. But whatever pains she took to make it seem dictated, Leesha was sure at least half the words were her mother’s alone, and most likely the other half as well. The content, as with her mother’s letters, never changed. Gared was well. Gared missed her. Gared was waiting for her. Gared loved her.

‘My mother must think me very stupid,’ Leesha said wryly as she read, ‘to believe Gared would ever even attempt a poem, much less one that didn’t rhyme.’

Jizell laughed, but it died prematurely when she saw that Leesha had not joined her.

‘What if she’s right?’ Leesha asked suddenly. ‘Dark as it is to think Elona right about anything, I do want children one day, and you don’t need to be an Herb Gatherer to know that my days to do it are fewer ahead than behind. You said yourself I’ve wasted my best years.’

‘That was hardly what I said,’ Jizell replied.

‘It’s true enough,’ Leesha said sadly. ‘I’ve never bothered to look for men; they always had a way of finding me whether I wanted them to or not. I just always thought one day I’d be found by one who fits into my life, rather than him expecting me to fit into his.’

‘We all dream that sometimes, dear,’ Jizell said, ‘and it’s a nice enough fantasy once a while, when you’re staring at the wall, but you can’t hang your hopes on it.’

Leesha squeezed the letter in her hand, crumpling it a bit.

‘So you’re thinking of going back and marrying this Gared?’ Jizell asked.

‘Oh, Creator, no!’ Leesha cried. ‘Of course not!’

Jizell grunted. ‘Good. You’ve saved me the trouble of thumping you on the head.’

‘Much as my belly longs for a child,’ Leesha said, ‘I’ll die a maid before I let Gared give me one. Problem is, he’d have at any other man in the Hollow that tried.’

‘Easily solved,’ Jizell said. ‘Have children here.’

‘What?’ Leesha asked.

‘Cutter’s Hollow is in good hands with Vika,’ Jizell said. ‘I trained the girl myself, and her heart is there now in any event.’ She leaned in, putting a meaty hand on top of Leesha’s. ‘Stay,’ she said. ‘Make Angiers your home and take over the hospit when I retire.’

Leesha’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

‘You’ve taught me as much as I’ve taught you these years,’ Jizell went on. ‘There’s no one else I trust to run my business, even if Vika returned tomorrow.’

‘I don’t know what to say,’ Leesha managed.

‘No rush to say anything,’ Jizell said, patting Leesha’s hand. ‘I daresay I don’t plan to retire any day soon. Just think on it.’

Leesha nodded. Jizell opened her arms, and she fell into them, embracing the older woman tightly. As they parted, a shout from outside made them jump.

‘Help! Help!’ someone cried. They both glanced at the window. It was past dark.

Opening one’s shutters at night in Angiers was a crime punishable by whipping, but Leesha and Jizell gave it no thought as they threw open the bar, seeing a trio of city guardsmen running down the boardwalk, two of them each carrying another man.

‘Ay, the hospit!’ the lead guard called, seeing the shutters open on the lamplit room. ‘Open your doors! Succour! Succour! Succour and healing!’

As one, Leesha and Jizell bolted for the stairs, nearly tumbling down in their haste to get to the door. It was winter, and though the city’s Warders worked diligently to keep the wardnet clear of snow, ice, and dead leaves, a few wind demons invariably found their way in each night, hunting homeless beggars and waiting for the occasional fool that dared defy curfew and the law. A wind demon could drop like a silent stone and then spread its taloned wings in a sudden snap, eviscerating a victim before grasping the body in its rear claws and swooping away with it.

They made it to the landing and threw open the door, watching as the men approached. The lintels were warded; they and their patients were safe enough even without the door.

‘What’s happening?’ Kadie cried, sticking her head out over the balcony at the top of the stairs. Behind her, the other apprentices were pouring out of their room.

‘Put your aprons back on and get down here!’ Leesha ordered, and the younger girls scrambled to obey.

The men were still a ways off, but running hard. Leesha’s stomach clenched as she heard shrieks in the sky. There were wind demons about, drawn to the light and commotion.

But the guards were closing the distance fast, and Leesha dared to hope that they would make it unscathed until one of the men slipped on a patch of ice and went down hard. He screamed, and the man he was carrying tumbled to the boardwalk.

The guard still with a man over his shoulder shouted something to the other, and put his head down, picking up speed. The unburdened man turned and rushed back to his fallen comrade.

A sudden flap of leathery wings was the only warning before the head of the hapless guard flew free of his body, rolling across the boardwalk. Kadie screamed. Before blood even began to spurt from the wound, the wind demon gave a shriek and launched skyward, hauling the dead man’s body into the air.

The laden guard passed the wards, hauling his charge to safety. Leesha looked back to the remaining man, struggling to rise, and her brow set.

‘Leesha, no!’ Jizell cried, grabbing at her, but Leesha stepped nimbly aside and bolted out onto the boardwalk.

She ran in sharp zigzags as the shrieks of wind demons rang out in the cold air above. One coreling attempted a dive attack anyway and missed her completely, if only by a few inches. It tumbled into the boardwalk with a crash, but quickly righted itself, its thick hide unharmed by the impact. Leesha spun away, hurling a fistful of Bruna’s blinding powder into its eyes. The creature roared in pain, and Leesha ran on.

‘Save him, not me!’ the guard called as she drew near, pointing to the still form lying on the boardwalk. The guard’s ankle was at an odd angle, clearly broken. Leesha glanced at the other form, prone on the boardwalk. She could not carry them both.

‘Not me!’ the guard called again as she drew close.

Leesha shook her head. ‘I’ve a better chance of getting you to safety,’ she said, in a tone that brooked no debate. She got under his arm and heaved.

‘Keep low,’ the guard gasped. ‘Windies are less apt to dive at things low to the ground.’

She hunched as much as she could, staggering under the big man’s weight, and knew they were not going to make it at the shuffling pace, low or not.

‘Now!’ Jizell cried, and Leesha looked up to see Kadie and the other apprentices run out onto the boardwalk, holding the edges of white sheets above their heads. The fluttering cloth was almost everywhere, making it impossible for the wind demons to pick a target.

Under this cover, Mistress Jizell and the first guard came rushing up to them. Jizell helped Leesha as the guard fetched the unconscious man. Fear gave them all strength, and they covered the remaining distance quickly, retreating into the hospit and barring the door.

‘This one’s dead,’ Jizell said, her voice cold. ‘I’d wager he’s been gone over an hour.’

‘I almost sacrificed myself for a dead man?’ the guard with the broken ankle exclaimed. Leesha ignored him, moving over to the other injured man.

With his round, freckled face and slender form, he seemed more a boy than a man. He had been badly beaten, but he was breathing, and his heart was strong. Leesha inspected him swiftly, cutting away his bright patchwork clothes as she probed for broken bones and searched for the sources of the blood that soaked his motley.

‘What happened?’ Jizell asked the injured guard, as she inspected the break in his ankle.

‘We were headin’ in from last patrol,’ the guard said through gritted teeth. ‘Found these two, Jongleurs by their look, lyin’ on the walk. Must’a been robbed after a show. They was both alive, but in a bad way. It was dark by then, but neither of them looked like they’d last the night without a Gatherer to tend them. I remembered this hospit, and we ran hard as we could, tryin’ to stay under eaves, outta sight from windies.’

Jizell nodded. ‘You did the right thing,’ she said.

‘Tell that to poor Jonsin,’ the guard said. ‘Creator, what will I tell his wife?’

‘That’s a worry for the morrow,’ Jizell said, lifting a flask to the man’s lips. ‘Drink this.’

The guard looked at her dubiously. ‘What is it?’ he asked.

‘It will put you to sleep,’ Jizell said. ‘I need to set your ankle, and I promise you, you don’t want to be awake when I do.’

The guard quaffed the potion quickly.

Leesha was cleaning out the younger one’s wounds when he started awake with a gasp, sitting up. One of his eyes was swollen shut, but the other was a bright green, and darted about wildly. ‘Jaycob!’ he cried.

He thrashed wildly, and it took Leesha, Kadie, and the last guard to wrestle him back down. He turned his one piercing eye on Leesha. ‘Where is Jaycob?’ he asked. ‘Is he all right?’

‘The older man who was found with you?’ Leesha asked, and he nodded.

Leesha hesitated, picking her words, but the pause was answer enough, and he screamed, thrashing again. The guard pinned him hard, looking him in the eyes.

‘Did you see who did this to you?’ he asked.

‘He’s in no condition …’ Leesha began, but the man cut her off with a glare.

‘I lost a man tonight,’ he said. ‘I don’t have time to wait.’ He turned back to the boy. ‘Well?’ he asked.

The boy looked at him with eyes filling with tears. Finally, he shook his head, but the guard didn’t let up. ‘You must have seen something,’ he pressed.

‘That’s enough,’ Leesha said, grabbing the man’s wrists and pulling hard. He resisted for a moment, and then let go. ‘Wait in the other room,’ she ordered. He scowled, but complied.

The boy was weeping openly when Leesha turned back to him. ‘Just put me back out into the night,’ he said, holding up a crippled hand. ‘I was meant to die a long time ago, and everyone that tries to save me ends up dead.’

Leesha took the crippled hand in hers and looked him in the eye. ‘I’ll take my chances,’ she said, squeezing. ‘We survivors have to look out for one another.’ She put the flask of sleeping draught to his lips, and held his hand, lending him strength until his eyes slipped closed.

The sound of fiddling filled the hospit. Patients clapped their hands, and the apprentices danced as they went about their tasks. Even Leesha and Jizell had a spring in their step.

‘To think young Rojer was worried he had no way to pay,’ Jizell said as they prepared lunch. ‘I’ve half a mind to pay him to come entertain the patients after he’s back on his feet.’

‘The patients and the girls love him,’ Leesha agreed.

‘I’ve seen you dancing when you think no one is looking,’ Jizell said.

Leesha smiled. When he wasn’t fiddling, Rojer spun tales that had the apprentices clustered at the foot of his bed, or taught them makeup tricks he claimed came from the Duke’s own courtesans. Jizell mothered him constantly, and the apprentices all shined and doted on him.

‘An extra-thick slice of beef for him, then,’ Leesha said, cutting the meat and laying it on a platter already overladen with potatoes and fruit.

Jizell shook her head. ‘I don’t know where that boy puts it,’ she said. ‘You and the others have been stuffing him for a full moon and more, and he’s still thin as a reed.’

‘Lunch!’ she bellowed, and the girls filtered in to collect the trays. Roni moved directly for the over-laden one, but Leesha swept it out of reach. ‘I’ll take this one myself,’ she said, smiling at the looks of disappointment around the kitchen.

‘Rojer needs to take a break and eat something, not spin private tales while you girls cut his meat,’ Jizell said. ‘You can all fawn on him later.’

‘Intermission!’ Leesha called as she swept into the room, but she needn’t have bothered. The bow slipped from the fiddle strings with a squeak the moment she appeared. Rojer smiled and waved, knocking over a wooden cup as he tried to set his fiddle aside. His broken fingers and arm had mended neatly, but his leg casts were still on strings, and he could not easily reach the bedstand.

‘You must be hungry today,’ she laughed, setting the tray across his lap and taking the fiddle. Rojer looked at the tray dubiously, smiling up at her.

‘I don’t suppose you could help me cut?’ he asked, holding up his crippled hand.

Leesha raised her eyebrows at him. ‘Your fingers seem nimble enough when you work your fiddle,’ she said. ‘Why are they deficient now?’

‘Because I hate eating alone,’ Rojer laughed.

Leesha smiled, sitting on the side of the bed and taking the knife and fork. She cut a thick bite of meat, dragging it through the gravy and potatoes before bringing it up to Rojer’s mouth. He smiled at her, and a bit of gravy leaked from his mouth, making Leesha titter. Rojer blushed, his fair cheeks turning as red as his hair.

‘I can lift the fork myself,’ he said.

‘You want me to just cut up the meat and leave?’ Leesha asked, and Rojer shook his head vigorously. ‘Then hush,’ she said, lifting another forkful to his mouth.

‘It’s not my fiddle, you know,’ Rojer said, glancing back to the instrument after a few moments of silence. ‘It’s Jaycob’s. Mine was broken when …’

Leesha frowned as he trailed off. After more than a month, he still refused to speak of the attack, even when pressed by the guard. He’d sent for his few possessions, but so far as she knew, he hadn’t even contacted the Jongleurs’ guild to tell them what had happened.

‘It wasn’t your fault,’ Leesha said, seeing his eyes go distant. ‘You didn’t attack him.’

‘I might as well have,’ Rojer said.

‘What do you mean?’ Leesha asked.

Rojer looked away. ‘I mean … by forcing him from retirement. He’d still be alive if …’

‘You said he told you coming out of retirement was the best thing that had happened to him in twenty years,’ Leesha argued. ‘It sounds like he lived more in that short time than he would have in years spent in that cell in the guildhouse.’

Rojer nodded, but his eyes grew wet. Leesha squeezed his hand. ‘Herb Gatherers see death often,’ she told him. ‘No one, no one, ever goes to the Creator with all their business complete. We all get a different length of time, but it needs to be enough, regardless.’

‘It just seems to come early for the people who cross my path,’ Rojer sighed.

‘I’ve seen it come early for a great many who have never heard of Rojer Halfgrip,’ Leesha said. ‘Would you like to shoulder the blame for their deaths, as well?’

Rojer looked at her, and she pressed another forkful into his mouth. ‘It doesn’t serve the dead to stop living yourself, out of guilt,’ she said.

Leesha had her hands full of linens when the Messenger arrived. She slipped the letter from Vika into her apron, and left the rest for later. She finished putting away the laundry, but then a girl ran up to tell her a patient had coughed blood. After that, she had to set a broken arm, and give the apprentices their lesson.

Before she knew it, the sun had set, and the apprentices were all in bed. She turned the wicks down to a dim orange glow, and made a last sweep through the rows of beds, making sure the patients were comfortable before she went upstairs for the night. She met Rojer’s eyes as she passed, and he beckoned, but she smiled and shook her head. She pointed to him, then put her hands together as if praying, leaned her cheek against them, and closed her eyes.

Rojer frowned, but she winked at him and kept on, knowing he wouldn’t follow. His casts had come off, but Rojer complained of pain and weakness despite the clean mend.

At the end of the room, she took the time to pour herself a cup of water. It was a warm spring night, and the pitcher was damp with condensation. She brushed her hand against her apron absently to dry it, and there was a crinkle of paper. She remembered Vika’s letter and pulled it out, breaking the seal with her thumb and tilting the page towards the lamp as she drank.

A moment later, she dropped her cup. She didn’t notice, or hear the ceramic shatter. She clutched the paper tightly and fled the room.

Leesha was sobbing quietly in the darkened kitchen when Rojer found her.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked quietly, leaning heavily on his cane.

‘Rojer?’ she sniffed. ‘Why aren’t you in bed?’

Rojer didn’t answer, coming to sit beside her. ‘Bad news from home?’ he asked.

Leesha looked at him a moment, then nodded. ‘That chill my father caught?’ she asked, waiting for Rojer to nod his recollection before going on. ‘He seemed to get better, but it came back with a vengeance. Turns it was a flux that’s run from one end of the Hollow to the other. Most seem to be pulling through it, but the weaker ones …’ She began to weep again.

‘Someone you know?’ Rojer asked, cursing himself as he said it. Of course it was someone she knew. Everyone knew everyone in the hamlets.

Leesha didn’t notice the slip. ‘My mentor, Bruna,’ she said, fat teardrops falling onto her apron. ‘A few others, as well, and two children I never had the chance to meet. Over a dozen in all, and more than half the town still laid up. My father worst amongst them.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Rojer said.

‘Don’t feel sorry for me; it’s my fault,’ Leesha said.

‘What?’ Rojer asked.

‘I should have been there,’ Leesha said. ‘I haven’t been Jizell’s apprentice in years. I promised to return to Cutter’s Hollow when my studies were done. If I had kept my promise, I would have been there, and perhaps …’

‘I saw the flux kill some people in Woodsend once,’ Rojer said. ‘Would you like to add those to your conscience? Or those that die in this very city, because you can’t tend them all?’

‘That’s not the same and you know it,’ Leesha said.

‘Isn’t it?’ Rojer asked. ‘You said yourself that it does nothing to serve the dead if you stop living yourself out of guilt.’

Leesha looked at him, her eyes round and wet.

‘So what do you want to do?’ Rojer asked. ‘Spend the night crying, or start packing?’

‘Packing?’ Leesha asked.

‘I have a Messenger’s portable circle,’ Rojer said. ‘We can leave for Cutter’s Hollow in the morning.’

‘Rojer, you can barely walk!’ Leesha said.

Rojer lifted his cane, set it on the counter, and stood. He walked a bit stiffly, but unaided.

‘Been faking to keep your warm bed and doting women a bit longer?’ Leesha asked.

‘I never!’ Rojer blushed. ‘I’m … just not ready to perform yet.’

‘But you’re fit to walk all the way to Cutter’s Hollow?’ Leesha asked. ‘It would take a week without a horse.’

‘I doubt I’ll need to do any backflips on the way,’ Rojer said. ‘I can do it.’

Leesha crossed her arms and shook her head. ‘No. I absolutely forbid it.’

‘I’m not some apprentice you can forbid,’ Rojer said.

‘You’re my patient,’ Leesha shot back, ‘and I’ll forbid anything that puts your healing in jeopardy. I’ll hire a Messenger to take me.’

‘Good luck finding one,’ Rojer said. ‘The weekly man south will have left today, and at this time of year, most of the others will be booked. It’ll cost a fortune to convince one to drop everything and take you to Cutter’s Hollow. Besides, I can drive corelings away with my fiddle. No Messenger can offer you that.’

‘I’m sure you could,’ Leesha said, her tone making it clear she was sure of no such thing, ‘but what I need is a swift Messenger’s horse, not a magic fiddle.’ She ignored his protests, ushering him back to bed, and then went upstairs to pack her things.

‘So you’re sure about this?’ Jizell asked the next morning.

‘I have to go,’ Leesha said. ‘It’s too much for Vika and Darsy to handle alone.’

Jizell nodded. ‘Rojer seems to think he’s taking you,’ she said.

‘Well he’s not,’ Leesha said. ‘I’m hiring a Messenger.’

‘He’s been packing his things all morning,’ Jizell said.

‘He’s barely healed,’ Leesha said.

‘Bah!’ Jizell said. ‘It’s near three moons. I haven’t seen him use his cane all morning. I think it’s been nothing more than a reason to be around you for some time.’

Leesha’s eyes bulged. ‘You think that Rojer … ?’

Jizell shrugged. ‘I’m just saying, it isn’t every day a man comes along who’ll brave corelings for your sake.’

‘Jizell, I’m old enough to be his mother!’ Leesha said.

‘Bah!’ Jizell scoffed. ‘You’re only twenty-seven, and Rojer says he’s twenty.’

‘Rojer says a lot of things that aren’t so,’ Leesha said.

Jizell shrugged again.

‘You say you’re nothing like my mum,’ Leesha said, ‘but you both find a way to turn every tragedy into a discussion about my love life.’

Jizell opened her mouth to reply, but Leesha held up a hand to stay her. ‘If you’ll excuse me,’ she said, ‘I have a Messenger to hire.’ She left the kitchen in a fume, and Rojer, listening at the door, barely managed to get out of her way and out of sight.

Between her father’s arrangements and her earnings from Jizell, Leesha was able to acquire a promissory note from the Duke’s Bank for one hundred and fifty Milnese suns. It was a sum beyond the dreams of Angierian peasantry, but Messengers didn’t risk their lives for klats. She’d hoped it would be enough, but Rojer’s words proved prophetic, or a curse.

Spring trade was on in full, and even the worst Messengers had assignments. Skot was out of the city, and the secretary at the Messengers’ guild flat-out refused to help her. The best they could offer was next week’s man south, a full six days away.

‘I could walk there in that time!’ she shouted at the clerk.

‘Then I suggest you get started,’ the man said dryly.

Leesha bit her tongue and stomped off. She thought she would lose her mind if she had to wait a week to leave. If her father died in that week …

‘Leesha?’ a voice called. She stopped short, turning slowly.

‘It is you!’ Marick called, striding up to her with his arms outspread. ‘I didn’t realize you were still in the city!’ Shocked, Leesha let him embrace her.

‘What are you doing in the guildhouse?’ Marick asked, backing up to eye her appreciatively. He was still handsome, with his wolf eyes.

‘I need an escort to take me back to Cutter’s Hollow,’ she said. ‘There’s a flux sweeping the town, and they need my help.’

‘I could take you, I suppose,’ Marick said. ‘I’ll need to call a favour to cover my run to Riverbridge tomorrow, but that should be easy enough.’

‘I have money,’ Leesha said.

‘You know I don’t take money for escort work,’ Marick said leering at her as he swept in close. ‘There’s only one payment that interests me.’ His hand reached around to squeeze her buttock, and Leesha resisted the urge to pull away. She thought of the people that needed her, and more, she thought of what Jizell had said about flowers no one saw. Perhaps it was the Creator’s plan that she should meet Marick this day. She swallowed hard and nodded at him.

Marick swept Leesha into a shadowed alcove off the main hall. He pushed her against the wall behind a wooden statue and kissed her deeply. After a moment, she returned the kiss, putting her arms around his shoulders, his tongue warm in her mouth.

‘I won’t have that problem this time,’ Marick promised, taking her hand and placing it on his rigid manhood.

Leesha smiled timidly. ‘I could come to your inn before dark,’ she said. ‘We could … spend the night, and leave in the morning.’

Marick looked from side to side, and shook his head. He pushed her against the wall again, reaching down with one hand to unbuckle his belt. ‘I’ve waited for this too long,’ he grunted. ‘I’m ready now, and I’m not letting it get away!’

‘I’m not doing it in a hallway!’ Leesha hissed, pushing him back. ‘Someone will see!’

‘No one will see,’ Marick said, pressing in and kissing her again. He produced his stiff member, and started pulling up her skirts. ‘You’re here, like magic,’ he said, ‘and this time, so am I. What more could you want?’

‘Privacy?’ Leesha asked. ‘A bed? A pair of candles? Anything!’

‘A Jongleur singing outside the window?’ Marick mocked, his fingers probing between her legs to find her opening. ‘You sound like a virgin.’

‘I am a virgin!’ Leesha hissed.

Marick pulled away, his erection still in his hand, and looked at her wryly. ‘Everyone in Cutter’s Hollow knows you stuck that ape Gared a dozen times at least,’ he said. ‘Are you still lying about it after all this time?’

Leesha scowled and drove her knee hard into his crotch, storming out of the guildhouse while Marick was still groaning on the ground.

‘No one would take you?’ Rojer asked that night.

‘No one I wouldn’t have to bed in exchange,’ Leesha grunted, leaving out that she had indeed been willing to go that far. Even now, she worried that she’d made a huge mistake. Part of her wished she had just let Marick have his way, but even if Jizell was right and her maidenhead wasn’t the most precious thing in all the world, it was surely worth more than that.

She scrunched up her eyes too late, only serving to squeeze out the tears she sought to prevent. Rojer touched her face, and she looked at him. He smiled and reached out, producing a brightly coloured handkerchief as if from her ear. She laughed in spite of herself, and took the kerchief to dry her eyes.

‘I could still take you,’ he said. ‘I walked all the way from here to Shepherd’s Dale. If I can do that, I can get you to Cutter’s Hollow.’

‘Truly?’ Leesha asked, sniffing. ‘That’s not just one of your Jak Scaletongue stories, like being able to charm corelings with your fiddle?’

‘Truly,’ Rojer said.

‘Why would you do that for me?’ Leesha asked.

Rojer smiled, taking her hand in his crippled one. ‘We’re survivors, aren’t we?’ he asked. ‘Someone once told me that survivors have to look out for one another.’

Leesha sobbed, and hugged him.

Am I going mad? Rojer asked himself as they left the gates of Angiers behind. Leesha had purchased a horse for the trip, but Rojer had no riding experience and Leesha little more. He sat behind her as she guided the beast at a pace barely faster than they could walk.

Even then, the horse jarred his stiff legs painfully, but Rojer did not complain. If he said anything before they were out of sight of the city, Leesha would make them turn back.

Which is what you should do anyway, he thought. You’re a Jongleur, not a Messenger.

But Leesha needed him, and he knew from the first time he saw her that he could never refuse her anything. He knew she saw him as a child, but that would change when he brought her home. She would see there was more to him; that he could take care of himself, and her as well.

And what was there for him in Angiers, anyway? Jaycob was gone, and the guild likely thought he was dead, as well, which was probably for the best. ‘If you go to the guard, it’s you they’ll hang,’ Jasin had said, but Rojer was smart enough to know that if Goldentone ever learned he was alive, he would never get the chance to tell tales.

He looked at the road ahead, though, and his gut clenched. Like Cricket Run, Farmer’s Stump was just a day away on horseback, but Cutter’s Hollow was much further, perhaps four nights even with the horse. Rojer had never spent more than two nights outside, and that just the once. Arrick’s death flashed in his mind. Could he handle losing Leesha, too?

‘Are you all right?’ Leesha asked.

‘What?’ Rojer replied.

‘Your hands are shaking,’ Leesha said.

He looked at his hands on her waist, and saw that she was right. ‘It’s nothing,’ he managed. ‘I just felt a chill out of nowhere.’

‘I hate that,’ Leesha said, but Rojer barely heard. He stared at his hands, trying to will them to stillness.

You’re an actor! he scolded himself. Act brave!

He thought of Marko Rover, the brave explorer in his stories. Rojer had described the man and mummed his adventures so many times, every trait and mannerism was second nature to him. His back straightened, and his hands ceased to shake.

‘Let me know when you get tired,’ he said, ‘and I’ll take over the reins.’

‘I thought you’ve never ridden before,’ Leesha said.

‘You learn things by doing them,’ Rojer said, quoting the line Marko Rover used whenever he encountered something new.

Marko Rover was never afraid to do things he’d never done before.

With Rojer at the reins, they made better time, but even so, they barely made it to Farmer’s Stump before dusk. They stabled the horse and made their way to the inn.

‘You a Jongleur?’ the innkeep asked, taking in Rojer’s motley.

‘Rojer Halfgrip,’ Rojer said, ‘out of Angiers and points west.’

‘Never heard of you,’ the innkeep grunted, ‘but the room’s free if you put on a show.’

Rojer looked to Leesha, and when she shrugged and nodded, he smiled, pulling out his bag of marvels.

Farmer’s Stump was a small cluster of buildings and houses, all connected by warded boardwalks. Unlike any other village Rojer had ever been to, the Stumpers went outside at night, walking freely – if hastily – from building to building.

The freedom meant a full taproom, which pleased Rojer well. He performed for the first time in months, but it felt natural, and he soon had the entire room clapping and laughing at tales of Jak Scaletongue and the Painted Man.

When he returned to his seat, Leesha’s face was a little flushed with wine. ‘You were wonderful,’ she said. ‘I knew you would be.’

Rojer beamed, and was about to say something when a pair of men came over, bearing a handful of pitchers. They handed one to Rojer, and another to Leesha.

‘Just a thanks for the show,’ the lead man said. ‘I know it ent much …’

‘It’s wonderful, thank you,’ Rojer said. ‘Please, join us.’ He gestured to the empty seats at their table. The two men sat.

‘What brings you through the Stump?’ the first man asked. He was short, with a thick black beard. His companion was taller, burlier, and mute.

‘We’re heading to Cutter’s Hollow,’ Rojer said. ‘Leesha is an Herb Gatherer, going to help them fight the flux.’

‘Hollow’s a long way,’ the man with the black beard said. ‘How’ll you last the nights?’

‘Don’t fear for us,’ Rojer said. ‘We have a Messenger’s circle.’

‘Portable circle?’ the man asked in surprise. ‘That must’a cost a pretty pile.’

Rojer nodded. ‘More than you know,’ he said.

‘Well, we won’t keep you from yer beds,’ the man said, he and his companion rising from the table. ‘You’ll want an early start.’ They moved away, going to join a third man at another table as Rojer and Leesha finished their drinks and headed to their room.