5

FIVE: Unwanted Reunions

The sheepdog’s name was Lucy, and she was a very good girl. I wasn’t a stranger to dogs—the farm had several communal hounds used for catching pests and herding the small flock of sheep raised there—but I never directly cared for them myself. Lucy refused to be ignored for very long and soon forced her head into my lap, rather than waiting patiently for me to pay attention to her on my own. I just smiled and complied, which seemed to please the dog immensely. Ira was not a talkative companion, but that suited me fine. After spending time fastening my belt and its weapon into place where it was most comfortable, our trip passed in what amounted to silence—aside from the creaking and jostling of the wagon wheels, the snorting and grunting of the buffalo, and the occasional contented sigh of the sheepdog as I stroked her ears and scratched the top of her head.

We entered the forest colloquially known in that region as the South Woods, part of a vast woodland that supposedly stretched hundreds and even thousands of kilometers to the south and east across the continent; I had no context or way to understand just how far a distance that really was, so the trees might’ve stretched all the way to the edge of the world for all I knew. The ride left me with time to think, to reminisce on the memory of my talk with Deathbringer, and the chat with Mistress Darya as well. There was no way to know what I’d find in Svolyn, not to mention what might lay beyond it, but I would just have to figure out what to do when the time came. Worrying about where the sun might come up wouldn’t move it so much as a millimeter—it would come up the same place it always had whether I worried about it or not. Pyotr taught me that.

The memory of my man, with his gentle smile and mop of brown hair that fell down into his eyes when he laughed, banished any thoughts of magic swords or Steadwomen. I was glad for the silence then. Just the briefest thoughts of him, remembering what we’d talked about in recent days, our plans for the future—of a new home together, children, saving up to buy our own plot of land—all of it sent me spiraling into a pit of my own making, one that was blacker and deeper than anything I’d seen in the Veil.

I bowed my head and closed my eyes, feigning sleep, letting my hand rest atop the dog’s shaggy head. It wouldn’t do to let a stranger watch me cry, so I didn’t. But my broken heart splintered just a little more, all the same.

The storm clouds remained in the sky for the duration of the wagon ride, but aside from some far-off rumbling in the western sky, the morning rain did not return. Our route took us southeast, the road following a narrow river that stretched all the way to our destination, which we reached just after six o’clock in the evening. A bell from somewhere nearby was calling out the hour as the town came into view through a break in the forest. The sun was hanging low in the late afternoon sky, wreathed in more grey clouds from over the tops of the trees.

Svolyn was a log-built town, sitting right on the edge of the water. The place had a haphazard sort of look which I’d been told was common in northern cities, where buildings seemed to pop up out of the ground like mushrooms on a shaded patch of damp earth. It was also the biggest collection of buildings I’d ever seen in my entire life, and I fought against the urge to gawk at everything as we rode in. From a far-off distance, I heard a prolonged, howling sound, a whistling in my ears. Over the tops of the buildings I saw clouds of steam rising, and heard the repetitive ringing of bells.

The roads were of packed earth, damp enough for the buffalo to throw up clods of dirt as they walked. The smell was like nothing I’d ever smelled before: the wet earth and manure were familiar, but there was also the stink of so many people gathered in one place. From some ways off, a dog was barking; Lucy perked up her shaggy ears and gave a low growl of her own, but Ira soothed the dog with a gentle, knowing pat and she settled back onto her haunches again in silence.

At the outskirts of the town, and on the main road leading into it, I spotted more Avardi soldiers dressed in silver and blue, standing or mounted together in pairs. The men watched us pass by with little interest, but this was my first step into enemy territory. It was a reminder that I had to remain cautious, watchful at all times.

Ira pulled the wagon out in front of one particular building. It was painted green with faded yellow shutters and a pair of matching saloon doors. A cacophony of noises came wafting from inside, sounds of voices shouting and fists banging on tables. A rusted metal sign was hanging over the door of a wolf in profile, with a pair of circular cut-outs over its head representing the two moons, with a name underneath. A paper sign—some kind of advertisement or message, I guessed—was hanging in the window.

“This is the Twin Moons,” Ira said. “It’s also as far as I go,” he added, squinting at the sky. “I’ll head back for Darya’s place tonight, I think.”

“You’re already leaving? At this hour?” I asked. I was surprised at his quick departure, then felt a spark of something like fear or doubt flash in my heart. Darya and Ira were the only thing resembling friends I’d had since the massacre, and now I was already losing them.

Ira reached down into the bed of the wagon, patting a blanket-covered bundle, pulling it back to show me the musket hidden there. “I’ll be safe enough, I expect.” He nodded towards the saloon. “You should seek shelter for tonight, at least; I expect the last train out of town should be leaving in an hour or so. Get yourself some rest, then go buy a ticket down at the depot in the morning—that’ll get you to where you need to go.” He motioned down the long street in the direction of the steam clouds I’d spotted on the ride into town. Next, he pulled something out of the pocket of his coat and handed it to me. The coins he pressed into my palm felt warm and very heavy when he pulled his fingers away, but only after closing mine over them.

“With the Mistress’ compliments,” he said in a low voice. “Rooms’re cheap here, but you’ll still need coin to rent one. Mistress Nika’s the one who runs this place, so ask for her; she’ll take care of you.”

“Oh. Right.” Coinage wasn’t used on the farm, at least not between the people working there. I stuck the coins into my pocket and climbed out of the wagon. Once on the ground, I paused, looked up at him. “I didn’t want any of this, Ira. I didn’t want…what happened.” I looked up the street and back again with a sigh. “I just want to go home.”

“That’s to be expected, Miss,” he said. “But sometimes you look up, and home’s gone for good, sad as that is. Then you move forward or die trying, you follow me?”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. I rested my hand atop Lucy’s head, scratching the white and grey fur, and wondered just what new surprises were in store for me. “Any other advice?”

Ira shrugged. “Not much else to give. Be smart with your money—try to make it last. Get enough rest, be careful who you trust, and keep moving forward no matter where the road leads.” He gave one of my shoulders a squeeze, smiled one last time, then snapped the reins and started the wagon rolling up the street again. Lucy stared back at me as they left, barking once in goodbye before they were out of sight.

Ira’s wasn’t the only wagon on Svolyn’s streets, and I had enough presence of mind to get out of the road before someone else came along and rolled right over me. I was out of my element now and knew it, but I’d sooner go crawling back to Mistress Darya on my hands and knees first before I ever admitted that. This, in truth, felt like the first real step of my journey.

It was time to see what I was made of.

The interior of the Twin Moons had a real wood floor and oil lamps hanging from the walls. Oil lamps are cheaper than spell-steel ones, but they sometimes leave stains from soot smoke. Wooden chairs and tables lined the walls, with larger, round tables in the middle of the room, each of them holding their own lamp. The ceiling was low; wooden columns, unevenly spaced but finely carved, supported the second story overhead. I noticed glasses sitting on most of the tables, filled with dozens of beverages of different flavors: dark russet browns, licorice black, wheat gold with foaming heads, even forest green and crimson. The drinks caught the lantern lights and shimmered like tiny, multicolored candles. Most of the seats were occupied—more than half of them were women, but there were more men than I expected. I was quite sure I’d never seen so many men gathered together in one place before.

At the far end of the room was a small stage, a raised platform framed in red and blue drapes. A trio of musicians stood on one side of the stage, while some kind of pantomime or performance was happening at the center of it: six women and three men, all singing a song I’d had never heard before—the lyrics talked about a woman traveling far from home, the men she’d met along the way, and the lover waiting for her back home. The combined lot of them were wearing just enough clothing so as to maintain some sense of decency, but none of them seemed put off by their state of undress, or by the loud whistling, laughing and clapping of the audience gawking at them. When several pairs of singers started pressing their bodies together and started gyrating in time to the song, I tore my eyes away from the stage entirely.

I wasn’t unfamiliar with lustful ideas and temptations—Pyotr and I had done a fair bit of gyrating together, usually out in the fields where the wheat stalks were the tallest—but it was one thing to do so in private, and something else to go wild while an audience shouted its approval. Being reminded of something so primal and intimate made me angry more than anything, and I had to repress my immediate reaction to the show, not wanting to draw any further attention to myself.

I stepped out of the doorway as a pair of drunken companions stumbled past me and walked out through the swinging doors. On the far side of the room, in the shadow of a stairwell leading up to the building’s second floor, I saw a long waist-high table where people stood and took their drinks rather than sitting down. I also saw three more men in blue and silver Avardi uniforms and nearly froze mid-step, but managed to avoid tripping over my own feet.

Keenly aware of the men, I kept far away from them, walking up to a pair of older women standing on the other end of the tall table. One of them was wiping it down with a towel, while the other washed a set of glasses in a metal bin of soapy water. Their gowns were low-cut with shoulders bare, but their arms were well-muscled, more-so than I expected; the one washing dishes stood head-and-shoulders over her companion.

“What can I get you, Mouse?” said the one with the cloth in her hand. I could see wide streaks of silver at her temples. Her smile looked amused, but friendly.

The choice of nickname surprised me. “What?”

The tall woman washing dishes snorted a laugh. The other shook her head and said, “Never mind. What can I do for you?”

“I was told to ask for Mistress Nika,” I said.

“Mm, really.” The woman eyed me in an appreciative manner. “I’m Nika. But you…” She squinted. “I don’t know—what do you think, Tass?”

The woman washing dishes looked over her shoulder, eyeing me up and down while continuing to scrub at a metal pan. She sniffed once. “The locals always go for the brunettes, Mistress,” Tass said, pursing her lips. “Not so much for ones in trousers, though.”

“Oh, I’m sure I can do something about that,” Nika said.

I didn’t answer, just looking from one to the other in confusion.

Nika tipped her head slightly to one side. “I know most all of the regulars in town, Mouse—somebody with a face like yours, I’d remember. Are you here about the job advertisement I put up?” She motioned to the paper sign in the window by the swinging doors. “If you’re a shy kind, you came to the wrong place.”

At first I’d thought she was propositioning me, but now I understood. “No, it’s not that,” I said. “I need a room for the night. And I can pay.”

“Oh, that. Why didn’t you say so?” Nika clicked her tongue in disappointment before she patted the counter top in front of her. “Money first—and no paper,” she added, sticking up a finger for emphasis.

As I reached into my pocket, a thought, unbidden, came to my mind: I hadn’t asked how much the room would cost. In truth, I didn’t know what the value of the coins was to begin with. So, taking a risk, I pulled out just one of them. It was silver, with a stylized picture of a sword on one side, point down, framed by characters or letters that I couldn’t read. I slid it across the table to Nika, but kept my fingertip firmly pressed down on it. “Will this do?”

Nika’s eyes lit up and her smile got a little wider. “It will, it will,” she echoed with a hum of satisfaction. She walked down the length of the long table, past the trio of Avardi soldiers and around again. “I’ll go see about getting your room ready. Wait here, please.” With that, Nika walked up the stairs to the second floor and was out of sight.

“Care for a drink while you wait?” Tass said, setting the dishes out to dry and wiping her hands on another towel. I was sure I’d never seen a woman as tall as her before.

I shook my head and re-pocketed my coin. “No, thank you.”

Tass shrugged. “Suit yourself,” she said. She then picked up a cleaned stein, turned away to set it under a tapped barrel and pulled on a long, polished handle. A liquid with a dark amber hue began to fill the glass, and Tass had hardly finished before she took a long drink, draining half of it in one gulp before wiping her mouth dry.

Something long and warm slid across my shoulders. I turned my head to see one of the Avardi soldiers standing next to me, his arm around my neck and a warm, drunk smile on his face. Just looking at him sent a cold rush down my spine, but it was hard for me to notice anything apart from his uniform, which had turned to faded grey in the ruddy lamp light; his silver badge was stained crimson. That seemed appropriate, somehow.

“Who’s the new girl?” he said.

“It’s not like that, Alek,” Tass said with a sniff. “She’s a paying customer, same as you. Keep your hands to yourself or Mistress Nika’ll tell me to take them off for you.”

“Don’t be like that, Tass,” Alek said. He didn’t remove his arm as ordered. “I heard you three talking about a job, don’t try to play coy with me.”

“You’re pushing your luck, Alek,” said one of the other soldiers from where he stood, halfway through what appeared to be his second beer. “Nika’ll get Tass there to toss you out on your ass like last time.”

Alek snorted. “Women bouncers are the worst,” he said, as if Tass wasn’t standing just out of arm’s reach.

The third soldier didn’t speak or react to his companions and their chatter at all. He stood half-slumped over, three empty steins in front of him and nearly done with his fourth as he stared at the table in front of him, not speaking.

When Tass took a step closer, Alek smirked. “Let’s all just relaaaaax,” he said, stretching the syllable out. “My new friend doesn’t mind it…do you?” He was still smiling at me, but there was the slightest hint of tension in his arm that I could feel now.

I already didn’t want him touching me, but that added bit of pressure made the hot ball of hate in my belly flare up again. It reminded me of how Yenda tried to grab my face, like any stranger could touch me whenever it pleased them. “Get away from me,” I said, keeping my voice low and calm, in spite of the tightness of my throat. For good measure, I added: “Please.”

“There you go, Alek,” Tass said, stepping closer, her beer now nowhere in sight. “Let the girl go.”

“Alright, alright,” Alek said, slowly and deliberately raising his arm as he stepped back. His smile looked frayed at the edges, the look of a man who didn’t like his attentions getting rebuffed. “There, you see? I let her go. No reason we can’t all try to be a little friendly sometimes, right?” He asked his question while looking right at me; I could sense a threat in his words, but he walked back to his drink after that.

I slowly let out the long breath I’d been holding and uncoiled my fingers from around Darya’s knife, shifting my feet from the stance I’d taken without realizing it. I saw Tass looking at me, eyebrows up ever so slightly in a look of surprise.

Nika came halfway down the stairs and motioned to me. “Miss, your rooms are ready if you’d like to come take a look.”

I circled around to the stairs and followed her up to the second floor, but kept my eyes on the three soldiers all the while. Alek and the man who’d warned him off were talking in low voices to one another, drinking and otherwise keeping to themselves, but they both gave me long, unfriendly stares as I left. Their silent companion threw back his head, drained his glass, pounded it twice more on the bar for another round. I saw his face in profile, his smooth cheeks and crop of red hair like a flashing flame in the lantern light.

Once I was out of sight at the top of the stairs, I stopped. As Nika kept walking I paused, leaned against the wall and covered my mouth and nose to smother the sound of my rushed, panicked breathing. I recognized that man’s face and thick head of red hair from when he thrust his sword through my chest and stopped my heart.

It was my murderer.

KALE

Kale Isrodel was a murderer. Once he’d been little more than a fop, just the son of a noblewoman who drank too much and hardly troubled himself with worrying about the future or what it required of him. Now he was a soldier, and that meant following some orders he didn’t like. He lived in a woman’s world, which meant he had to keep his head down and get his hands dirty from time to time—it didn’t matter if he enjoyed it or not. What mattered was not attracting too much attention to himself. It was why he’d come to Svolyn, why he’d tried to blend in and not draw any attention to himself.

And then, Yenda Avard showed up in the last place he expected her to appear. For all most of these people knew, Yenda was just someone Kale knew by reputation and he intended to keep it that way. When she announced that she was forming a company for a special job and requested his presence by name, Kale wanted to spit. But what Yenda Avard wanted, Yenda Avard got.

Now, Kale had killed for her. Life was cheap, especially on the frontier, but it should’ve been worth more than what it took for a spoiled noble brat to order an entire farmstead slain to the last man, woman and child. The blonde girl’s face was still fresh in his memory; he could still see her look of shock and anger when he’d thrust in his blade, before the light and luster left her eyes. The memory of it haunted him like his mother’s ghost, impossible to forget, incapable of being banished for long. He could still remember the weight of every corpse he helped to carry into that empty barn, the stink of death mixing with mud, animal offal and the sweat of his own brow until he wanted to empty his stomach of every last drop in it. The children were the worst; he fought hard to keep the bile down, stayed silent as some of the other Avardi soldiers jested or joked with one another while they worked—he’d thought them to be good men once.

No longer. Yenda Avard poisoned everything she touched, like a walking disease. Yenda had used Kale and the other men as blunt instruments, tools to feed her avarice and desire. He knew something about that avarice and lust, more than he’d ever wanted to know. It was because of Yenda that he’d fled to the farthest, most remote corner of civilization he could find, but Kale had been a fool to think he could ever escape beyond Yenda’s reach. She simply rode back into his life and made sure to remind him exactly who was in charge.

Kale had no jokes, no banter to share during the ride back to Svolyn. Yenda rode at the head of the group, cradling something wrapped in a silken sack like a mother clinging to a newborn. None of the others seemed to grasp the significance of what she’d found, but Kale was no stranger to magic swords or to those that carried them and lusted for their power. During the entire ride back to town, he forced himself not to glare at Yenda’s back, to keep his hand away from his pistol, to keep his face as blank as possible. When he got back to Svolyn, Kale was going to find himself something to drink, and Saints only knew when he’d be able to stop.